To Break A Curse
by Shadow182
Summary: After years of fight and struggle, the Dragonborn seems to have at last found her stride in the world, and with a man she'd been at odds with since the start. But peace never lasts long, and the Dragonborn soon finds herself fighting not for the World, but the soul of a single man. (Dragonborn x Vilkas, standalone, "What Binds Us" sequel)
1. Flower Day

**I know! I've been gone so long - update is on my profile. This story is the end fragment of the saga anyone who's played Skyrim knows well, and I hope you all enjoy! There won't be much waiting between chapters as this short story is actually completed, so I'll be aiming to put a chapter up each day.  
**

* * *

The market of Whiterun was alive and bustling under the bright First-Seed sun; Spring had come with vengeance after a long and bitter winter, and the entire city seemed to feel it. I was glad to have chosen this week to visit Jorrvaskr; the icy wastes of Winterhold had been cold and cruel and no doubt still were. Still, it was a pleasant break from my new duties at the College; I'd been away from the Companions far too long.

Farkas joined me that morning; we had a fair bit of shopping to do and the first harvests from the south were finally in. I'd asked him to join me simply for the fact that he was big, burly and very capable of carrying most of the parcels of food. He liked to be useful. I stopped at Carlotta's stand, eyeing off the fresh fruits and vegetables while Farkas grumbled.

"Don't waste all your gold on vegetables," he muttered, "We don't all eat like you, y'know."

I smirked, inspecting some carrots and potatoes that I added to my basket.

"You've got a whole bag of meat there and there's a deer being salted back at the hall," I chided; he wasn't the first Nord to either mock me, or be genuinely confused at my dislike of eating meat. I didn't see what the problem was; I still liked fish, sometimes fowl… but the smell of burning blood and boiling fat was…

I'd smelled too many human bodies burning to like the taste of meat.

Still, there were a lot of hungry warriors to feed there, and today I knew Tristane would be arriving to visit from Riften and knowing him, he'd be bringing friends. And trouble. He always brought trouble.

"The Emperor murdered, and Ulfric has taken the Jagged Crown; it won't be long now till the Empire falls."

We both glanced over our shoulders; Vignar Grey-Mane was bragging loudly to Anoriath at his stall; the little Bosmer shook his head at the Nord.

"The Empire is more than one man; Ulfric won't find an easy victory," he warned.

I glanced up at Farkas who was frowning at the conversation; he hitched the pig over his shoulder that had been wrapped in calico and the sack of flour on his other arm.

"You think he's gonna win?" Farkas asked me drolly. I matched his frown, instead piling apples into the basket over my arm.

"Maybe. This war has been raging so many years, it's hard to say if it will change any time soon." The Emperor had died a fortnight ago, it was said to be by the hand of the Dark Brotherhood. Half of Skyrim had been in mourning; the other half stirring restlessly as the fire of rebellion was rekindled.

"What do you think?" I pressed my Shield Brother. His chin jutted forward and eventually he shrugged.

"I don't like thinkin' on it much," he grumbled, "The Companions got history with Battle-Borns and Grey-Manes. I don't like takin' sides."

I tried to hold back my sigh; dear Farkas… I could try to get him to use his brain but in the end he always just seemed… disinterested.

"It's about more than the families here, this is a Kingdom we're talking about," I attempted again, and he just sort of shrugged, watching as I got rather choosy with the few tomatoes the store boasted.

"Y'know, I thought they might talk to you about bein' the Emperor. Empress?"

I laughed abruptly, thinking him to be joking, "What?"

"The old Emperors had Dragonblood, right?" He said frankly, "My brother said they did."

I shook my head, choosing a rare aubergine, "The last one was two hundred years ago now."

"But you done a lot. You killed Alduin, Miirak. And you got a lot going for you. You're a Thane, a Companion… you're real important up in the College. You're a hero, it makes sense."

"Farkas…" I muttered, shaking my head, "Being a 'hero' doesn't make one an Emperor. Being a warrior doesn't make one a King; Ulfric thought so and it's been many years now, it hasn't worked out so well for him, hm?" I thanked Carlotta and dropped the septims into her hand, leaning down to pick up my second basket, heavy with eggs and cheese.

"Besides, what would you all do if I was the Empress or High Queen? You hardly see me as it is and I'm only Arch Mage."

He started at that comment, "That's right… you'd be better off not being Queen. Hey, your brother won't mind pork, will he? I mean he's not like you, is he?"

"Don't worry about Tristane," I laughed, "He won't mind what he eats so long as there's a lot of mead to wash it all down with."

"Miss Ashwood!"

I blinked and jolted; when in Oblivion did anyone ever address me as Miss Ashwood? I looked through the thin crowd, seeing Belethor waltzing over, causing me to raise an eyebrow. Belethor was the Breton who ran the general goods store in the market, a stocky, middle aged man with rather long dark hair he oiled and tied back at the nape of his neck, and wore his sideburns long down his cheeks. I knew him mostly by face, which is why it was quite a surprise when he took my right hand and promptly kissed my fingers despite the heavy basket hooked on my elbow.

"Uh-"

"Good morning maiden!" he jeered in is gruff, coarse voice before liberally reaching forward and sticking a blue mountain flower in my hair; from the corner of my eye I could see Farkas quickly looking back and forth from the merchant to me. I blinked, dumbfounded, and Belethor feigned disappointment.

"What? You can't tell me the only Breton girl in the city doesn't know the day!"

 _Day? 25th of First-Seed?_

"Oh!" I gasped, shaking my head, "I'm sorry, of course. It's been a few years since…" I cleared my throat, stumbling into a quick, awkward curtsey even though I wore trousers and tunic, not a dress. "Thank you sir."

Belethor chuckled and finally released my hand, nodding a farewell and started back through the market place to open his shop. I felt my cheeks colour and shook my head.

"Uh, what was all that about?" Farkas murmured, looking strangely concerned.

"It's nothing, just… Flower Day. It's silly, just a Breton thing," I said quickly. It was very rare to encounter anyone celebrating Flower Day outside of High Rock.

"Why'd he give you a flower?" Farkas asked and I could feel my cheeks colouring more as I hitched the basket onto my elbow. We began the short trip up the steps home.

"It's just the way the day is celebrated," I gave an indifferent shrug, "Young men would greet unmarried women and put a flower in their hair, each colour has a different meaning. Then at night everyone gets drunk and dances till sunrise. Most girls wake up the next morning with half a garden sticking out of their heads."

"Huh. We don't really have anything like that here… so what does blue mean?"

"Oh, uh… blue for beauty," I muttered, "Then, yellow for friendship, red for passion, pink for youth, white is purity, purple is love. Then there's other flowers that have special meanings, deathbell would mean betrothed, nightshade means 'I'd give my life', elves ear for luck. Daisies are only ever given to little girls, like from a parent to a daughter."

"I never thought give'n a girl a flower could be that much trouble."

"There's supposedly a secret meaning behind every flower but most people hardly know the meanings anymore, they just choose by colour."

"Huh." Farkas considered this a moment as we walked, then went to the edge of the path, setting his sack of flour onto his shoulder and stopping to pull something from the ground. I felt myself smile when he came back with a small yellow dandelion with a fairly long stalk. He 'carefully' stuck it into the back of my half-braid.

"There," he said, smiling proudly at himself and I laughed, continuing along the path.

"Well thank you."

"Aint you supposed to curtsey now?"

"Don't push your luck," I warned with a smile, and Farkas chuckled.

"So when was the last time you celebrated this?"

"That'd be the year before I came to Skyrim… though outside of Highrock it's not really a celebration, just an excuse for any local Bretons to get together and- Oh Gods…" I put my fingertips to my forehead the moment it struck me.

"What?"

"It just occurred to me. Today is Flower Day, Tristane arrives for a visit… that is not a coincidence…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really." I hitched my basket up with a sigh, smiling though I shook my head.

"Is he a lot like you?"

"As day and night." I gunted as I started up the steps for Jorrvaskr, "You'll see what I mean."

* * *

By noon I was out in the training yard; staying inside the mead hall was torture when I could smell Tilma's cooking wafting up from the kitchen. I'd wanted to fix a snowberry crostata for when my brother arrived but she'd taken up every inch of space, happily humming herself a tune as she prepared the meals; and since she'd already roped Athis into helping her peel potatoes there was simply no room.

It was fair, and I needed the exercise. Giving my shoulder a roll I lifted my bow, drawing back slowly and glaring down the arrow, feeling the cold ethereal feather touch my lips before I released it. The summoned arrow let fly, thudding into the straw target on one of the outer rings. Like the others I'd shot, it was determined to avoid the bullseye I was aiming for. I huffed.

"Damn."

"Back straight, Lyri," a voice behind me growled and I smirked, glancing over my shoulder. Vilkas was setting his cuirass down on one of the tables, starting to buff and polish it with oil. Though he still wore the black leather greaves his shirt was a soft grey tunic, in lieu of the armour he worked on. His shaggy black hair flopped down over his silvery eyes… he needed a hair cut, the locks that would brush his jaw were now half down his throat. My eyes followed the contour of his neck and down his arm…

He flashed me a rare smile before looking back down at his work, but when I glanced back at the target it was suddenly hard to focus. I drew my arrow back, shoulders proud, and glared at the mark. With that, I let my arrow fly.

It stabbed the top edged of the target, and behind me Vilkas chuckled.

"Oh shut up," I tossed over my shoulder, my bow vanishing as it was pulled back to Oblivion.

"I hope you're not so rusty with your short sword," he commented, rubbing hard at a patch on the breastplate of his armour.

"Not at all… but then, you were the one who told me to fight to my strengths. Besides, it's no good sparring unless you're sparring _with_ someone."

I turned back to the target, about to summon another bow when Vilkas spoke up;

"You want to go a round then?"

I glanced back at him, and where he'd dropped the old rag onto his cuirass, and a playful tingle ran through my belly.

"…One-hand swords, two of three?" I offered, and he smirked, going to the weapon rack for a shield and training sword. I walked up to retrieve two blunt short swords; I knew Vilkas wouldn't appreciate my summoning one instead - and those were a little deadly for sparring.

In the clearing of the training yard we faced off, Vilkas hitching up his shield.

"Alright. Two of three, no magic."

I rolled my eyes but smiled, "I'm better at this than you think, Harbinger."

With that we edged a moment or two, and I sprung forward, short sword swinging and his shield swung to meet my blow, glancing it off. I dodged aside as he countered, easily out of his reach. Turning both short swords in my hands, I felt my heart race. It had been a long time since I'd fought without using my power, and I was finding something wonderfully primal about it. He swung at me that time and I glanced his blow away, rolling past him and swinging my short sword into the back of his knee, the dull metal thudding against the leather.

"Point."

"Hn. Not bad," he commented and we moved back into our positions. His specialty was the longsword, feet too used to balancing that weight and thus less nimble than me; out of his heavy armour, his weight seemed to be off, too. That said, I was used to more recently fighting with a staff, making one hand always a little lazy. I swung at him, and he parried.

"I had your letter only a day before you arrived," he said casually between moves, "I didn't know those vampires were attacking Riften too-?"

"Yes," I huffed, short swords singing as I swung another blow away, "We've not seen them north, but there's so few people out there I suppose there's little to tempt them."

He gave a mighty grunt and pushed me back with his shield - I rolled readily and was back on my feet, huffing a loose curl of red hair from my eyes.

"I don't like it," he warned solemnly, "You're up there alone, if they did decide to target Winterhold there'd be no guards, no fortifications…"

"There's the _College_ ," I laughed breathlessly, grunting a hard swing at him, "I think those vampires would have more than they bargained for should they attack. I'm still going to enchant a few swords for you here."

I saw him grimace and back off a moment, "We don't need it."

"I know," I chided gently; they'd always been wary of magic, but were making great concessions. "Humour me, please. It'd put my mind at ease, and Gods know I'd better do it than Farengar, he has no idea what he's doing."

Vilkas laughed at that, "Arrogant."

"Pup, it's not arrogance if it's true."

The name seemed to throw him off a second when he went to bash me back with his shield again - I rolled off it, behind him and sprung up, blade swinging into his neck and stopping.

"Yeild."

"Cheat."

"Belly-acher."

"Three of five?"

I smiled and nodded, and when he looked down at me now it was with determination, a wolfish, hunting glare that made something tighten in my stomach. I rallied quickly.

"Have you been keeping up with Dovahsul?" I asked, twirling my blades. But he didn't answer this time, lunging forward instead in earnest and like that I was on the back foot, glancing his blows back. Training was no longer for words.

I grunted with exertion; I may have been faster but he was far stronger and every heavy blow I glanced away took more energy to recover from, but the action was exhilarating. Then his sword flashed above my head, coming straight down and I crossed my blades above my head to block it, swinging the blade away and turning in the process as he turned the other way - and suddenly his sword belted me hard across the chest, knocking the wind out of me. The ground rushed up to greet me and I was staring up at the clear blue sky, coughing hard at the ache spreading through my chest.

"Lyrielle!" I heard a sword and shield clatter to the ground, and Vilkas came into view, his arm worming under my shoulders, gently pulling me up, "Are you alright?"

"…Yield?" I croaked and the worry on his face was replaced with an exasperated smile. I rubbed a hand over my sore chest. "Damn… I'm glad that blade was dulled…"

"This is why you wear armour when you're training," he chided, but kept his arm around my back even when I was sitting. "Gods, you're lucky you're not any shorter, I could have gotten your throat…"

"I'm alright," I said, twisting to get up when a sharp pain lanced between my shoulders and I hunched back down, "No, nope…"

He suddenly held me in a bit closer, worriedly, and a hand gingerly at the base of my throat where and angry red welt was already starting to blossom. It made it a little harder to breathe, and not from the stinging ache…

No, I was painfully aware of his closeness now, inviting, a memory burning to the front of my mind when I smelt his skin… woodsy, pine and leather. No different than it had been, that one night. It made me reluctant to look at him.

"…Do you need anything?" he asked and I shook my head.

"Just to cast, I'll be fine," I said, fully expecting him to let me go - true he edged back, but his hand was still at my back, on my shoulders. I flexed my fingers and summoned a healing spell, the orange light washing around me and the pain bleeding away from my chest. I drew in a grateful breath and Vilkas helped me to my feet, awkwardly brushing me off.

"That… may have to do it for today," he said, withdrawing from my coldness. I only nodded, but a tension hung in the air.

 _Wishful thinking, Lyri…_

In that moment it seemed he might say something, when a voice called out from around the side of Jorrvaskr and Aela came into view, striding over with a small, rare smile. Vilkas pulled back from me sharply.

"Lyrielle?" she waved, "I found someone in the markets for you."

And from behind her, my brother burst around the side of Jorrvaskr, flanked by some familiar Breton friends from Riften. He spied me across the courtyard, grinned and threw his arms open.

"Ellie!"

I grinned back, hurrying over to welcome the embrace. He pulled me in with a hard thud, squeezing the air from my lungs and lifting me a little. Tristane did nothing by halves, including a hug.

"It's good to see you Triss," I said warmly, feeling a pure joy wash over me at being back in the arms of family.

When I said my brother and I were as different as day and night, it is in reality surprisingly true; where he was vibrant and social, I tended to be quieter and serious. He was restless and active where I found peace in reading and writing. And even where we were similar in appearances, we were different. He was a feather taller than me (which was not hard to be), and his hair was bright, fiery red where mind was the colour of blood, his curls neat where mine were wild, his blue eyes sunny, mine stormy, his skin pale like sunlight, mine cold like moonlight.

We both tended to freckle.

"Oh, oh, who's been giving you flowers then?" He said, pulling me back and looking into my half-braid and loose curls. He looked from Vilkas to Aela teasingly, "The Noble Companions? Feel free to stick a flower in my sister's hair, but if you want to stick her anything else you'll have to marry her first!"

"Tristane!" I yelped sharply and my cheeks burned - he'd not been here a minute and already tormented me. Aela cracked a low snigger and Vilkas audibly choked on his chuckle;

"Good to see you again," he said dryly, giving me a sideward glance; Tristane liberally shook his hand then looked over his shoulder to his travelling companions.

"See Vex? Even Ellie's gotten into the spirit."

"Tristane I am well in my spirits," Vex said, swinging a bottle of wine from her fingers pointedly. It was strange seeing her in the light of day; her lovely blonde hair seemed silver instead of gold. She almost smiled at me, reaching out and shaking my hand.

"It's good to see you Lyrielle."

"You too Vex - hello Delvin," I greeted as the gruff man came forward to shake my hand, hard.

"Lyrielle! It's been too long," He carefully stuck a twig of lavender into my braid. From there I made the formal introductions, though Vex seemed a touch standoffish to the Companions. Delvin did what he could to be more inviting.

"I'd better see you all down at the Bannered Mare this evening," he offered.

"I'm sure my brother won't let us have a choice in the matter."

"Speaking of, we'd best get down and secure a room," Vex said, glancing about at the watchful eyes of the Companions; she probably didn't want her face too easily remembered, "Till later, Lyrielle."

"Till then."

Aela then encouraged Vilkas away to leave me some catch-up time with my brother, and soon, he and I were alone in the courtyard. Seeing the doors to Jorrvaskr close I frowned, turning and glaring at him. He blinked back at me innocently.

"…What?"

"So, is this Guild business?" I said stonily and my brother winked at me, throwing an arm over my shoulders.

"Ah, Guild business, family business, fun business! Can I help the stars aligning?" he jeered and I prodded him in the ribs.

"What are you planning?"

"Why are you worried?"

"I just prefer to be in the loop, if you're going to be getting yourself into a _situation_."

" _I_ won't be."

I grabbed his ear and twisted it, "Tristane Ashwood you tell me what's going on right now."

"Fine! Fine! Gods you're a miserable old thing for six and twenty…"

I released him and he rubbed the side of his head, "I did just want to come up here and celebrate Flower Day…" he lowered his voice and leant in, tone suddenly changing as he swapped out Tristane Ashwood for The Guildmaster:

"But, Delvin has something to take care of up in Dragonsreach, nothing too devious, just fudging some papers to get a certain someone out of a prison cell."

"And what, you're throwing a festival to cover your tracks?"

He only winked.

I will clarify now, reader, my brother was living on the wrong side of the law. Now, I myself had been (and I suppose still am) a member of the Thieves Guild, back in my adolescence and days of poverty and struggle; Destiny of course had other plans for me. My brother on the other hand was one of the most talented and daring thieves and agents I'd ever come across. You wouldn't think it by the way he acted, but that was perhaps his trick; I'd been his sister long enough to know one only ever sees what Tristane lets them see.

Where I bore my troubles openly and frankly, he concealed his under laughter and jokes.

"You cannot stay mad at me Ellie-Belly," he teased, pulling something from his satchel, "I have a present."

I snorted a laugh, taking the soft parcel wrapped in brown wax paper. I gently uncovered it, giving a soft smile at the contents, deep purple and lavender fabric.

"It's not enchanted; since you can do that better than anyone it seemed stupid to."

"I can't remember the last proper gown I owned," I said smilingly, then reached over to peck his cheek. "Thank you Triss, it's lovely."

He chuckled, "You haven't even tried it on yet. Best you wear it tonight."

* * *

They certainly started early.

By the time I made it down to the Bannered Mare, Vex was still at the wine, and the tavern was surprisingly crowded, many out-of-towners visiting. I'd learned later it was thanks to Tristane putting the word out about celebrations and gatherings in Whiterun; his bard friends, mead merchants, jugglers… The Khajit from the travelling caravans were permitted, for once, to come into the city too, laughing with the bards and teaching them exotic songs, dancing their sinuous dances.

For the most part I sat tucked into a corner table, enjoying my wine, the dances, and the roguish and bawdy jokes my brother insisted on telling anyone who'd listen. The Companions filtered in too, and it was not long before the Bards barraged them to retell their stories.

As the crowd became rowdy, laughing about the Flower Day tradition, my hair began collecting more stray blossoms and soon every woman in the tavern was starting to sprout gardens from their heads. The noise and joy and madness only began to grow with the evening, people getting drunker, and crowds getting thicker as merchants closed up shop and came to see the commotion. And almost every Breton in the place was starting to get a little mad…

That was when Vex clambered up onto a bench after much pestering from Tristane, swinging her goblet around, and the bard strummed out a tune for her to sing to:

 _"Well, Johnny be fine and Johnny be fair he wants me for to wed,  
And I would marry Johnny, but my father up and said,  
"I'm sorry to tell you daughter what your mother never knew  
But Johnny he's a son of mine, so he's kin to you!"_

I blurted a laugh into my wine as the crowd cheered and laughed; next to me Torvar and Aela yelled and hammered their tankards onto the table. Vex rallied and continued on-

 _"Well, Willie be fine and Willie be fair he wants me for to wed  
And I would marry Willie, but my father up and said,  
I'm sorry to tell you daughter what your mother never knew  
But Willie he's a son of mine, so he's kin to you._

 _Well, Jimmy be fine and Jimmy be fair he wants me for to wed_  
 _And I would marry Jimmy, but my father up and said,_  
 _I'm sorry to tell you daughter what your mother never knew_  
 _But Jimmy he's a son of mine, so he's kin to you._

 _Well, never was there a girl so sad and sorry as I was_  
 _The boys in town, they're all my kin and my father is the cause!_  
 _I will not be contented for to die a single miss_  
 _I think I'll go to mother and complain to her of this."_

I was laughing too much at the old song not to join in, raising my goblet at the end-

 _"Well, daughter, haven't I taught you to forgive and to forget?  
So, your father sowed his oats, oh still you should not fret.  
Your father may be the cause of all the boys in town, but still…  
He's not the one who sired you so marry who you will."_

The crowd roared with laughter, and a few burly men came and hoisted Vex onto their shoulders. A few began cheering for a more familiar tune than the cheeky Breton song, all bellowing along when a Bard struck out his next tune:

 _"Ohhh…. The once was a hero named Ragnar the Red  
Who came riding to Whiterun from ol' Rorikstead-"_

* * *

Night fell thickly, and the round of the marketplace was being lit with lanterns as the noise and party spilled out of the front of the Bannered Mare when it was too crowded for dancing; though the night air was crisp, fires burned from braziers and warmed the night around us. On the covered well in the centre of the markets, two bards were drumming their drums and singing their songs to the sound of raucous, drunken laughter.

Flower Day may not have been a Nord holiday, or even a prominent Breton one, but it was good to see the city waking up, dancing, laughing, shaking off years of hardship even for just the one night. Many of the young ladies danced around the well to the music, little girls with daisies in their hair holding hands and running about their skirts, squealing.

And in the thick of it all, Tristane was dancing with the girls, singing with the bards and joking with Jon Battle-Born, who was relishing every moment. He had the heart of a true romantic, that man, secretly pinning a red flower into Olfina Grey-Mane's silvery hair. Belethor was cheekily grabbing at the girls - he was deep in his cups with Torvar. Aela was drinking away and laughing with Adrianne, and Farkas was sitting with two pretty maids, one on each knee who were unashamedly fawning over him. It astounded me how easily they would be won over by big muscles and a few impressive scars, that he was the twin they'd prefer. Not that Vilkas' brooding manner, or lack of civility, or his arrogance was particularly endearing… But he was thoughtful; he had a powerful mind and where I came from that was prized higher than being built like a bear.

It was then I spied the man himself; he sat on the steps to the Bannered Mare, watching the dancers with some amusement. Vilkas at a festival; it didn't seem very fitting. Though out of his armour for once and in a dark blue tunic he still wore his warpaint. Ludicrous man.

Ysloda spun by him then in the middle of a dance. She smiled her pretty smile at him, swishing her skirts and beckoning him to dance with her and I felt my stomach bubble hotly. Vilkas smiled and quickly shook his head, no. She beckoned him a second time, even trying for his hand - my guess however, was that Vilkas hadn't ever learned to dance.

Eventually she waltzed off, disappointed. I could not deny the relief that trickled through me, another of those sensations I worried over and tried to crush. When Vilkas and I had first known each other we were different; I was unsure, young, and he was… well, a bully. Of course, the years have a way of changing people. Or perhaps we simply understood each other better. It took time, becoming the close friends that we were… especially after our history. It wasn't worth jeopardising that friendship.

So I carried over a bottle of mead, offering a smile.

"Enjoying the display?" I asked lightly; he glanced up as I approached, eyebrows lifting when he looked me over. I halted. "…What?"

"Nothing, nothing…" he said quickly, actually standing, "…I can't remember the last time I saw you in a dress."

"I- oh…" I glanced down at my garb, having to give a small chuckle. "Well, don't get used to it. It's pretty enough but I'll go mad washing hems and petticoats day in and out."

Privately, I enjoyed the feeling of my dress swish about my ankles; certainly not something I'd put up with every day. But for tonight… I could indulge a little. And it had been made for me after all, a gift; surely it would be rude to let it moulder away in the bottom of a chest. The underdress and petticoats were a soft lavender cotton, the overdress, warmer and sturdier wool, but dyed (rather expensively I imagine) to purple and laced up tightly at the front, a little silver embroidery around the hems and sleeves. Yes, this was the first fine gown I deigned to wear, since the usual high fashions in the courts of Skyrim looked dreadful on my petite frame.

Vilkas actually stood to the side a little and offered for me to sit, the action causing me to snort out a laugh at him. He frowned.

"What?"

"The effect of skirts on the minds of men," I chuckled, taking my seat, "You're actually treating me like a lady."

As if to prove a point, he slouched back down next to me and took the mead bottle from my fingers, taking a mouthful for himself.

"Never thought you one for festivals," he commented, pausing when he looked me up and down again. I nodded, watching the dancers laugh and trip their way over the cobblestones. With the flowering gardens around the buildings, warm firelight with torch bugs floating about them, an old childhood memory itched in the back of my mind.

"I like the Moon Festival better, it's closer to my Name Day," I said with a smile, then added, "It's nice to be reminded of Highrock sometimes. Not that I can remember much at all, but… so much darkness in the world these past few years, it's good just to see people smiling."

I felt Vilkas nodding, "There has been turmoil… but I suppose I should thank your brother for bringing this festival here. The city needed it."

I narrowed my eyes. "He's up to no good."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he always is. That man goes off and finds trouble wherever he can."

Vilkas chuckled then, "So do you."

"No. Trouble finds me," I corrected with a wry smile. We sat in silence for a moment watching the dancers when I felt Vilkas brush a lock of hair behind my ear, and the stem of a flower brushing my scalp. I couldn't hide the surprised smile, fingertips coming up and touching the nightshade blossom he'd tucked in my hair.

"Thankyou," I said quietly, glad the darkness could hide the colour coming to my cheeks.

"…I didn't just threaten to kill you did I?" Vilkas asked after a moment and I blurted out with a laugh.

"I'm fairly sure that's only if you're in the Dark Brotherhood."

My fingers brushed the flower again, before I quickly pulled my hands away in case I wilted it. That was unlike him, to be sure, a generous concession for the festival…

Tension grew between us as the silence began to stretch; it felt warm sitting by him, and I recognised the urge to shift closer still… he, of course, remained stoic and unreadable as ever.

"…Are you as lively a dancer as your brother?" he eventually asked when a rather drunken Tristane went by, twirling a laughing girl around him, hands a little too low on her back. I snorted and shook my head.

"On the rare occasion? I'm too worried about where my feet are going to be lively about it." The sudden thought of my hand in his, of being held close and turned about the square made me shift and sway a little.

"…Why? Do you dance?"

"No."

Another short silence, then he nudged me and added, "But, I'd be glad to watch you."

"…It's this damned skirt, isn't it?" I asked him, starting to shake my head, "First you'd give up your seat, then have me dancing to a flute, before you know it you'll be sending me out into the fields to sing at the butterflies."

Then to prove my point, I drank deeply from the bottle of mead, but when I looked back at him, he was chuckling and smiling at me, one I couldn't help but return.

"Well," he said, reaching out and adjusting the flower in my hair, "You're not making it easy on me."

I stilled when I felt his fingertips lingering on my cheek, my heart picking up pace. The moment hung in the air when I finally caught his eyes, strange and silvery-blue like Secunda.

"…Vil-"

A loud bell suddenly chimed from one of the guard towers, his attention snapped away, and then mine. He was frowning, as another bell from another tower began ringing, and Whiterun guards began moving down the steps from the Wind District, pushing their way into the oblivious, drunken dancers.

"Everyone! Back to your homes! Move along! Now! Everyone get moving!"

"Come on now, join the celebrations!" Tristane jeered at one of them, swinging a mug of ale in his direction when the guard suddenly smacked it out of his hands. Vilkas abruptly stood, grabbing my wrist and I got to my feet, hairs prickling on the back of my neck. I reached out to try and speak with an Imperial soldier who was pushing through the crowds but he rebuffed me-

"Get back to your home miss!"

"What's happening?" I pressed but more angry people were being broken up and a drunken dancer stumbled into me, Vilkas pulling me back and out of the way.

"They may not think it's right, so soon after the Emperors death?" he voiced, but even then he shook his head. There was a frenetic edge to them all, panicked, rushed.

"No, something's not right… Tristane!" I shouted over the crowd that was starting to get violent at their party being spoiled; Tristane was up on the well still swinging a bottle around, shouting a guard and I began shoving my way through the inebriated dancers, Vilkas still holding my wrist tightly and helping move people from my path.

"Triss!" I shouted, "Tristane come on-"

Someone in the crowd gave a sudden shriek - the moment I turned the giant, burning stone dropped from the sky and crashed down into Belethor's shop, obliterating the building and engulfing it in flames.

The market square exploded into screams and chaos.


	2. The Invasion

People were shoving and running in all directions, screaming with panic as another huge rock came sailing through the air - a mighty crash could be heard far on the other side of Whiterun. In the thick of the crowd I felt Vilkas' hand slip off my wrist and I turned in a sudden panic.

"Lyrielle!" he called out, shoving his way back and I grabbed his hand, pulling him towards me. He held me by both shoulders, "It must be the Stormcloaks, we need to get back to Jorrvaskr."

"Alright, see if you can find the others, I'll meet you back there." I tried to pull away and he was reluctant to let me go, but I had to find my brother. When I looked up at the top of the well, he was nowhere to be seen. I shoved my way to it, hunting wildly through the crowd.

"Triss?!" I shouted, panic flooding me before a hand gripped my arm, hard; Tristane's stunned face greeted me and I held on to him as tightly. The crowd wasn't thinning, many people at the festival were outsiders and had no home in the city; some were trying to flood the doors to the Bannered Mare. There was a loud whistling high about and a fresh wave of screams when another flaming boulder sailed above our heads. Tristane pulled me to the ground, both of us crouched as the boulder thundered into the wall to the Wind District, stone blasting everywhere. Tristane shook me; drunk though he was, he was sobering damn fast.

"Ellie, we gotta move-"

"Wait, we can't just-"

"What buildings have basements?"

I wracked my brain, "The great houses, Jorrvaskr, Dragonsreach-"

"Dungeons… we gotta try and get people to Dragonsreach, the dungeons would be safest-"

"I have to go to Jorrvaskr," I said breathlessly and Tristane shook his head.

"No. Ellie we stick together!" he demanded and I wrung my hands, pulling back and turning on the crowd, then clambered up onto the well. We could do nothing while they were shoving about in a drunken panic. I breathed deeply;

"KAAN, _DREM OV!_ "

The shout pulsed out of my body like a wave over the crowd, all my sensations of peace and trust rolling with it. They started, screams fading; it was not so powerful over human minds as animal, but enough to make them listen.

"Anyone without a home in the city, get to the Cloud District," I bellowed, "The dungeons will be safest! Anyone with a basement, take people into your homes!"

And they did, spreading out and thinning away from the Bannered Mare and flooding up the steps. I jumped down, Tristane grabbing my hand and we dragged one another up towards Jorrvaskr, past the Gildergreen to where I saw Ria and Athis standing guard at the steps to the old mead hall, scanning the crowd. They beckoned us up, Ria slinging Tristane's arm over her shoulder to help him up the steps.

"He's well drunk," I warned her, "Where are the others?"

"The courtyard. I'll get him inside."

"Ellie-" Tristane called out when he was dragged off but I shook my head.

"Sober up brother!" and with that, I turned on my heel and skirted around Jorrvaskr, into the waiting courtyard. Farkas, Aela and Vilkas were already there, fast strapping into their armour.

"Have you seen the others?" I pressed, going past my Shield Siblings and straight to the wall.

"Inside, preparing themselves. Though Torvar is in no state to fight," Aela said, following along and climbing nimbly up onto the wall, gazing out over the hold beyond. Her jaw dropped… "Gods above…"

With that we all clambered up the stone, looking out into the night; my lips parted in shock, breath escaping me.

Huge catapults were wheeling out to the farms, slowly turning as they were wound back to be reloaded. Far across the valley, torchlights glinted, carried by the legion of soldiers marching across the hold to the city.

"Kynareth preserve us," I murmured. I had no idea Ulfric had garrisoned so many soldiers; yes, he'd gotten his hands on the Jagged Crown, but no one had expected that to suddenly earn him so much support.

"How many do you think there are?" Aela asked; Vilkas shook his head.

"They could be spreading out to look bigger than they are but… that could be more than a legion."

"There's no way… even with the Whiterun Guard, and the Imperial forces sent-"

"They underestimated Ulfric," Farkas joined lowly. Aela gritted her teeth, suddenly furious.

"Why in Oblivion didn't Balgruuf tell us?" she snapped, "He called on the Imperial Forces for backup he must have known!"

"We don't get involved in politics, remember?" Farkas pressed but his brother shook his head.

"No, we don't," Vilkas murmured, "But Ulfric has brought the battle to us; we must protect our home."

I knew what they would want to do; they'd go out into battle head on, get themselves right in the thick of the fight. And I would have to fight, too; after all this time trying to stay out of it, fate had gone and thrust me right into the middle of this Gods-forsaken mess.

Maybe it _was_ fate; maybe that's why I was here tonight and not back in Winterhold… I am Dragonborn, after all, I will be until the day I die; the Gods don't grant power for free.

I quietly slipped down from the wall, my Companions still debating their battle plans, and quickly as I could skirted around Jorrvaskr and down into the streets of Whiterun.

There were nearly no civilians now; everyone was being rounded up and herded up the hill, so I was fighting the current down to the main gates. Whiterun guards were filing through the huge archway and over the drawbridge, and a few Imperial Soldiers were marching out or starting to line the walls. I wrestled my way through the throng just as a strong, steely hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me back; an Imperial soldier was scowling at me.

"You there! Get back into the city!"

I growled and tried to wrestle my hand free, "Let me go! I need to see your commander!"

"No civilians, get back within the walls!" he snapped and started dragging me back; with my free hand I grabbed the front of his cuirass and gave him a short shake.

"I'm no civilian you ice-brain!" I snapped, "And I don't have time for this!"

It was then a Whiterun guard stepped in, breaking rank as soon as she recognised me and tried to get between me and the soldier.

"What's going on-? Unhand her!" she barked; the soldier let go of my wrist but didn't back down, looking from the guard to me.

"You know this woman?"

"Know her-?" The guard asked, mouth agape, "This is the Dragonborn, Thane of Whiterun, Companion of Jorrvaskr!"

"-And Arch Mage,"

"And Arch Mage!"

To say the look on his face was priceless was an understatement; his eyes wide, he looked back at me, instinctively snapping to attention though I bore no real rank.

"I- Dragonborn, I-"

"You were expecting someone taller, I know," I said, "Who's in charge here?"

"Irileth is in command, I'll take you to her," he replied with sudden deference and, perhaps, a little embarrassment. He lead me down the winding road, shouting to clear the way. Around us the army was hurriedly putting up blockades or moving weapons. As we approached the final post the soldier filled me in.

"They took us by surprise; we knew Ulfric was coming, but the siege was not expected for at least a se'n night. If we can hold off the siege for tonight the Legion and Legate Rikke should be here tomorrow. Irileth!" he shouted; the dark elf looked up from her post, beckoning us over as she finished giving commands to a small troupe of guards. Irileth was truly in her element, new glass armour gleaming in place of her old leather, fresh yellow war paint streaked over her dark grey face. She was an intimidating sight; it was no wonder the Legion fell readily under her command in the absence of their Legate.

"Thane Ashwood," she greeted shortly, then to the soldier who'd snapped to attention at my side, "Back to your brigade, soldier."

He obeyed, and Irileth and I turned for the final post, looking out over the long wide fields of the hold to the advancing army.

"You're not battle ready," she commented dryly and I glanced down at my dress.

"A mage is always battle ready," I replied shortly and she smirked.

"The Companions?"

"They'll be here soon; if I know Vilkas, he'll want to meet that army head on," I turned to her then, summoning a breath, "Irileth, I have a plan; there's a shout I can use that could hold off that army, perhaps even drive them to retreat."

She looked down at me, reading my expression instantly.

"The catch?"

"…You have to keep your men back here at the wall-"

"What?"

"I can't guarantee they'll be safe from it," I pressed, starting towards the horses tethered at the first watch, "Keep them back here, if any of those Stormcloaks get through-"

"You can't go out there alone!" She commanded but I was busy untying the reins of a black mare;

"I can't have the soldiers following me either; I can protect myself out there but not them." The horse freed, I stared hard into Irileth's bloody eyes, "Please, Irileth, trust me."

We'd been through too much before then for her not to; with a dark grimace the Dunmer nodded, turning and giving out the orders to the guard and the Imperial soldiers to stand their ground. Bunching my skirts up around my hips I swung myself up onto the back of the black mare, slammed my heels into her sides and charged forward into the night.

It was eerily deserted out here in the meadow as the horse raced along the road; the cattle and goats were scattered and hiding, the only sound now was the steadily growing march of the army over the fields and the distant cracking as the catapults flung stone at the city. Before me the glints of torchlight spread out over the darkened valley, casting a glow on the banner men who carried the Stormcloak flags high. I closed in on them, individual soldiers becoming clearer in the darkness, the noise of their marching thudding harder and harder in the air.

The horse huffed and grunted, and with a loud whinny slid to a stop when I pulled hard on the reins. I slipped down from the saddle, knees wobbling, and gave the horse a hard whack on the rump to send it running - she bolted back up the road.

A cool night breeze whipped across the fields when I turned to a mass of blue and brown soldiers, now not fifty yards from me, glinting with flashes of silver as swords and bows were raised. A voice from the thick of them called out.

"Halt!"

With a collective stamp they came to a stand still, though I could see other brigades across the valley still closing in.

For a moment I regretted my decision; of the possible outcomes, there was only bad and worse, the army looked so much bigger this close… But I would try.

"General!" I shouted above the roar of distant explosions. After a pregnant pause the soldiers began to part and a tall, scowling Nord stalked through them, battle-axe drawn. His face was partially shrouded by the bear-skin cowl that signalled his rank, but I could see the malice pulling his mouth into a snarl.

"Dragonborn," he growled, "Do you come to tell us of Balgruuf's surrender?"

I swallowed, chin jutted forward, "No; I don't speak for the Jarl. I speak for the people of Whiterun; you are marching on _my_ home. The home of the Dragonborn." I paused, hoping that might sink in, "I beg you, turn your men around. This is not a fight you can win."

A titter of laughter rippled through the army; some seemed confident, some stoic, and others looked on me with a little fear. But the Bear-skinned officer scowled, starting to slowly move forward.

"You side with the Imperials now?" He called out, "Have you forgotten Helgen?"

I blinked; why bring up Helgen? It was nearly eight years ago now; eight years of me staying out of this mess till they brought it to my doorstep...

"I side with the people of Whiterun," I corrected, "You're marching on my home and threatening these civilians. I ask you, once more, turn your men around!"

Another murmur of dark chuckles rippled throughout the legion, louder now. The dragon in my blood snarled as if waking from a year-long slumber; my fingers flexed, hands growing hot as I charged my Ebonyflesh spell.

"Know us, Lyrielle," he called back to me, "We march for the true High King, we fight for the freedom of Skyrim and we will overcome anything that stands in our way."

The army advanced further, they would soon surround me. When the General next spoke, his words were tainted with sadness, "Even if it means slaughtering the Dragonborn to do it."

It was then I recognised him… it had been swirling in the back of my mind, but I recognised the Stormcloak soldier who had been there at Helgen with me, helped me escape…

"Ralof," I croaked, "Don't make me do this."

I had no idea if he could even hear me at that distance and over the marching of his men. His army still approached, bows and arrows trained on me. Ralof raised his axe, and bellowed the war cry.

I flicked my hands, the spell snapping around my skin in a rippling green aura just as the arrows let fly and the soldiers howled and charged, some past me to Whiterun, many with swords drawn for my blood. The arrows hammered hard into me, bounding back from my skin when they struck the spell. I tilted my head back, breathing deeply as the thu'um swirled in my chest, making my skin tingle and blood crackle. The balls of lightning charged in my hands, the air swirled coldly and roughly and I shouted to the sky.

"STRUN _BAH QO!_ "

My voice sliced through the air like a thunderclap, an army of men flinching at the sound…

The sky darkened; it turned, slowly circling into thunderclouds, rain beginning to wash over the meadows, a drizzle becoming a torrent in a matter of seconds.

I felt the lightning before it even struck.

With a roar I summoned my own bolts of lightning, twisting the wild, violent flashes from the heavens as they struck the earth and the massive army, all the fury of Kynareth and Akatosh shattering the forces; men flew back from the massive lightning strikes which I swept around me.

The wind swirled like the beating of a dragons wings, washing away their arrows. My rain pelted their eyes and soaked the ground under their feet. If one lucky soldier struck my skin it bounded back from my spell, my whole body a conduit for the massive power of the storm.

Bright blue… hot and cold and crackling, pouring through my body and spreading like a spiders web through the army, and soon I became lost to any other sensation… I could feel it, myself, spreading over the battlefield as far behind me the soldiers and guards joined the fray, beating the dwindling Stormcloaks away from the city with ease; I heard nothing but the glorious thunder, saw nothing but the bright flashes that I swept and blasted, obliterating the enemy. I was one with Kynareth, the wind and sky, my greatest shout, the fury of the storm…

The rebel army was fragmenting, some trying to penetrate the vortex of wind and rain, others still attempting to charge Whiterun. But my lightning struck without rhyme or reason; it blasted them from the earth.

Soon there was no room for rational thought. I was the rain; the rain cannot think.

I never felt the change or thought to recharge my Ebonyflesh spell, till it had already vanished from my skin, and I heard Ralof bellow.

"NOW! FIRE!"

There was a whistling, then heavy thuds pelting me from every side and knocked the wind out of my lungs;

Then the pain, pulsing violently from every spot, each arrow that and pierced my clothes and skin, crippling my senses. Looking down at my torso I was shocked to see the long shafts of three arrows, one stuck from my thigh, another above my hips, the last sticking out of my ribs which gave me a hint as to why breathing suddenly hurt so. My knees buckled and I slumped to the ground, cold mud and water soaking through my clothes just as the hot blood did.

And I'd only worn this dress the once…

It was a struggle to breathe; each time I tried my nerves would jolt painfully and darkness would creep in the corners of my eyes. Coppery blood was starting to fill my mouth and I could feel it bubble on my lips… Sounds disappeared under ringing in my head, and through the ground I felt the thudding of someone advancing upon me; staring up at the swirling storm above, Ralof was soon leaning over and looking down upon me. No triumphant smile; nothing much more than regret.

"May the great heroes welcome you again in Sovngarde," he said lowly, and lifted his sword.

Then, came the great, snarling roar…

Ralof leapt back in shock and terror but not fast enough; the giant black shape barrelled into him, a powerful claw smacking him away and sending him flying. It stood over me then, letting out a deafening, thunderous howl at the soldiers surrounding us and making even the most seasoned warrior flinch. The powerful black form of the werewolf…

Relief washed through me; I couldn't know which of my Shield Siblings had come, I guessed Aela but right then I cared not. I reached up, hands gripping black fur and one strong, clawed arm scooped me up. The arrows knocked together and tore at my insides, but I thought instead of the warmth and safety of the fur, as the great creature howled again, and bounded forward.

Then we were flying, bounding, jolting through the muddy battle; by then my mind was fogging and I cannot recall much, just the feel of cold wind and rain as the wolf ran on only three limbs, tucking me into its chest.

Consciousness faded further, and sounds of the battle drained away into darkness…

* * *

The pain was the first thing to bring me back. Pulsing in my leg, twisting through my middle. I didn't want to open my eyes, and my ears didn't want to hear… there was so much more comfort in the darkness. Icy droplets of rain spattered rhythmically on my already soaked skin; I was glad for the numbness. It stopped me feeling the cold.

Then something warm, slobbering and wet was lapping at my face.

I sputtered at the smell of wet dog and blearily tried to open my eyes, hands weakly coming up and batting at the huge black snout.

"Urgh… Aela, yuck! Quiddit…"

I wiped at my mouth and face, as the large nose buried into my neck, nudging me and encouraging me to wake up. The roughness nearly rolled me over, and the pain sliced though my middle, causing me to cry out in shock. I froze, unwilling to move for a moment before shakily resting onto my back, dizzy with the pain. Aela was circling me in a furious panic, growling and roaring at the invisible threat. A frown crossed my face…

That wasn't Aela. Aela always had control, she was one with her Beast and could act humanly in her werewolf form. When I went silent the wolf turned on me again, quickly coming over and sniffing at me. I reached up a hand to touch the coarse fur.

No… not Farkas either… Farkas was huge as a wolf, more like a bear. This one was lean, all muscle and long limbs. It took a moment for my addled brain to work it out; the wolf's snarls began to quiet as it watched me, my hand on the side of it's long snout. My lips parted in a little shock, when I found myself looking into silver eyes.

"Vilkas…" I ran my hand up the side of the werewolf's face to a furry cheek, and he licked at my wrist. "Oh Vilkas, what have you done…?"

I'd never seen him as a wolf… he'd always held back from transforming, I don't ever remember him changing, not the whole time I've known him. And here he was…

Gods, he couldn't even remember himself. He snuffled around me, sniffing at my wounds and trying to lick them clean and I had to keep wrestling his face away, the tension making the pain wrench at my insides again till I collapsed back on the grass.

 _Where were we…?_

I could hear the sounds of battle in the distance, under the rumbling of thunder and pouring of rain. Tall, dark trees stretched high above me, stone rose to one said then dropped off on the other. Through the trees on that side, I could see the wide plains surrounding the hill Whiterun sat atop, small fires of the battle glinting through the darkness. They were fast moving away from the city, though. The invaders were retreating…

Relief washed through me and I closed my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. Sleep… it seemed too appealing- there was a loud whine in my ear, a cold nose nudging my cheek and I forced my eyes open. I brought a hand up resting my fingers on his snout again.

"I'm awake…" I whispered, finally turning my gaze down to the arrow sticking out of my side, another from my leg… wood shafts, blue fletch.

"Dammit…" I couldn't just rip them out myself, I'd shred my insides to bits before I could heal. But there was a steady stream of blood dripping from the wound in my side. Bad news…

I weakly lifted my hands, fingers barely flexing as the soft, orange healing spell began to circle me. I could feel skin tightening and sealing around the arrows. But it'd stop the bleeding.

The spell drained me fast; consciousness came back but I was more exhausted than ever, hands flopping down into the muddy grass. My breath crystallised into a fog before me; it was colder than I thought. I rolled my head the other way seeing an overhang in the stone wall, a small patch that seemed dry and the appeal was too great. Gritting my teeth I pulled myself up, the arrow in my middle tearing again. With one hand I cast the healing spell which kept sputtering out, and with the other, began slowly dragging myself across the mud. Vilkas growled worriedly, circling and trying to stop me from moving; my hands grabbed a fistful of his fur for support.

"Vilkas, shelter."

After a moment he seemed to understand, and 'gently' gripped the back of my dress with his teeth, dragging me like a pup to the overhang. It was all I could do to stop crying out in pain when he settled me down again.

The stone was cold and hard but at least dry, no more rain splattering my skin. Sudden warmth at my side, and a hot huff of a breath ran over my soaked hair as Vilkas curled his huge form around me, blocking out the elements. Gods, he was so warm… I winced and carefully cuddled into his side closer, trying not to knock the arrows.

Rough fur brushed my cheek, and under that, hot skin and a steady heartbeat. His breathing was rhythmic and slow, though when I looked up at his silver eyes he wide awake. It was comforting… my body relaxed through the pain, and I began to doze. How long I lay there with my werewolf in half sleep, I cannot say. The far distant noise of battle was long gone; Vilkas would shift occasionally, nudge me, check on me.

"I'll be alright," I murmured to him, gently patting his fur with the back of my hand. Sheer exhaustion began taking over then… I curled in closer, leaning my head against a warm shoulder. Thoughts and worries about how we could possibly get out of here were hard to focus on - I just kept drawing warmth from the wolf, darkness eating into the corners of my eyes.

It was some time later when I was roused- Vilkas was snarling and dropped away from me making me grunt in sudden pain as the arrows were knocked, tearing icily at my insides.

I tried opening my eyes, seeing him standing, hunched over, thick tail swishing as he snarled at the intrusion. Dread turned to shear relief when I heard a familiar voice-

"Farkas! I found them!"

The werewolf roared, and when I looked past him I saw Aela come into view as she climbed over the ledge.

"Whoa, whoa!" she held her hand up, but kept her bow at the ready- Vilkas roared again and swiped at the air; Aela's shoulders dropped.

"Oh honestly… Vilkas! It's me!" Her gaze flitted down and she saw me, taking a few steps forward before Vilkas lunged at her again, snapping his jaws. I tried to lift my hand to signal to her, I tried to speak, but my bones were heavy as stone.

"For the love of… Farkas! Get up here!" she roared over her shoulder and Farkas eventually came into view over the rise. He only raised his eyebrows at what he saw.

"Huh… been a while since I seen him like that," he commented and Aela rolled her eyes.

"Yes, and I don't think the ice-brain even knows who he is." She waved a hand at him, "See? This is what happens Vilkas, you snub Hircines gift for years, then think you can just use it whenever it suits you…"

He was standing over me, snarling. Farkas took slow steps forward, a hand tentatively reached out.

"Come on brother, you know me," he said lowly. The werewolf snarled, sniffing the air and his brother's hand. Eventually he seemed satisfied that he knew these people, that they were friends, and began to let his guard down.

"Is he stuck like this?" Farkas asked bluntly, keeping Vilkas' attention as Aela skirted quickly around towards me; her relief was visible when she saw me blink sleepily at her; it was hard to focus on her face. She was fiddling with a satchel, I think. When she spoke, she sounded far away…

"Hard to say. If he can't consciously change back we'll just have to wait for the Beast blood to run it's course… hopefully it will. Lyrielle, can you hear me?"

I swallowed and tried to speak, but a strange croaking sound replaced actual words. There wasn't so much pain, though. Aela lifted my shoulders weightlessly and put something cold to my lips, a bitter taste of a potion making my head begin to clear and consciousness return. But then Aela said something, something about the arrows, when she grabbed a shaft from one, suddenly snapping it.

I didn't mean to cry out; it didn't even really hurt compared to all else, but it was so sudden I couldn't help yelping. And in that instant all hell broke loose-

A wild roar split the air and Aela cried out as she was suddenly batted aside by a furious wolf, fangs and claws flashing as he went to pounce on her- just as another wolf crashed into it, tackling him to the ground.

Where Aela crouched, holding her bleeding side was a pile of broken steel armour, and Farkas, in his enormous wolf form wrestled with a rabid Vilkas.

"N-no-"

I don't know if I actually managed to say it - I tried to lift myself, tried to move but the pain sliced through my body. Vilkas gave a roar of pain as his brother's teeth sank into his shoulder; the two wolves tore at each other, tumbling through the forest, and thundering out of sight.

It was the last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me.


	3. Hunting a Hunter

_We crept through the stone halls underground as it opened into holding cells. No Silverhand here, just quiet grunts and snarls from the cages. I slowly stood when I saw the coast was clear, stepping up to the iron bars of a cage._

 _Behind it, a hulking werewolf snarled quietly at me, a flash of white fangs as it snapped. There was suddenly a hand on my arm and Vilkas pulled me back._

 _"Careful… they're lost ones. Nothing we can do for them now."_

 _I glanced from him to it, the wolf, and frowned._

 _"There has to be something, there's a human in there-"_

 _"They're gone." Vilkas urged me away, "They belong to Hircine now, and we have the Silverhand to deal with."_

 _When I looked over my shoulder, the wolf was hunched over me, and it was Vilkas in the cage._

I woke to the sound of agonised groans melting with soothing murmurs. There was a watery sound too, like a well or fountain echoing from stone walls, and a gentle, warm tingling in my stomach.

"I think she's waking," a motherly voice murmured, followed by the abrupt sound of rustling armour. The warmth and tingling in my side grew, leeching into my blood and soothing away the pain. I reluctantly opened my eyes, welcomed with a gentle, pale light. Then the smell began to creep into my senses; a horrible scent of burned feathers and coppery blood, smothered with acrid balms and potions. Slowly my vision cleared, and a hooded face leant over into my field of vision.

"Ah, good; don't worry, you're safe here."

"Ellie!"

I was only just then aware of a grip tight on my hand, another quickly placed on my forehead  
and pushing my hair out of the way. I rolled my head, vision so slow to clear; a fuzzy, pale face with a shock of red hair made me smile.

"Triss…" I murmured; my throat croaked, my mouth felt dry as sand. Next to Tristane, another figure, ebony hair, smears of dark warpaint over pale eyes.

"Vilkas-?"

He hesitated then glanced away sadly, "No, no… it's-"

"Oh, Farkas, I'm sorry," I murmured, blinking hard to clear my eyes. The murk and fog left them, and indeed Farkas' face came into focus. The Priestess on the other side of me continued hovering her hands over me, weaving her spell. I clumsily reached up, fingers touching her arm.

"I'm fine," I muttered, "I know a healing spell…"

She looked up hopefully and didn't even bother with polite insisting. There were too many others who needed her help.

"Can you drink?" she asked quickly and I winced as I tried to sit up, Tristane quick to loop his arm behind my shoulders.

"Just water, really, I'll be alright from here," I croaked; Tristane and Farkas protested but the Priestess was visibly relieved.

"Kynareth bless you child," she said quickly, then looked sharply at the two by my side, "Get her some water from the altar."

With that she was quickly onto her next patient. The poor woman looked utterly exhausted.

"Yeesh, yes ma'm," Tristane said dryly, then leant forward and quickly pecked a kiss on the top of my head, "I'll be a moment."

I nodded, resting my head back onto the cot I was on, lazily flopping my hand out to Farkas. Worry began to churn in me.

"…What happened to Vilkas?"

"We… he got away. He's fast y'know, but Aela says he'll be back, he should trans- he'll come back when he calms down."

"But… he should have changed back now…"

"He might have. Aela's lookin' for him."

"But what if he can't- what if the Silverhand or the Stormc-"

I stopped myself when Tristane sat back down with a cup of water, glancing between Farkas and me then rolling his eyes.

"Please, like I don't know. Sit up, dunderhead."

He scooped an arm behind me again and pulled me up, putting the cup to my lips. The water was icy but sweet and I greedily sipped it back, closing my eyes at the cool rush as it flooded my stomach.

I winced and relaxed back, looking up at my brother with something akin to guilt. He smiled back sympathetically.

"Come now. It's my business to know things. The Companions are out there fighting, next thing to know _he_ disappears, a few moments later a werewolf pops out from behind the farm, scoops you up and carries you off into the woods? …He didn't eat you so I guess I should be grateful." Triss damped a cloth with the last of the water, pressing it gingerly onto my forehead, and the laughing smile was gone.

"…Don't you ever scare me like that again," he murmured, and I gently touched his wrist. After a moment I looked to Farkas.

"What _did_ happen?"

"By the time we got down to the gates we were told to go back inside, they sent us up to the fortifications. Apparently no soldiers were to go out into the battlefield. Seein' what that shout of yours did to the Stormcloaks, I aint surprised. Some of the soldiers still made it though, Vilkas wound up jumpin' down from the wall and we followed into battle. But then… he saw you go down and…"

I closed my eyes and nodded, guilt twisting into my stomach. The more I blinked around the more I could see how crowded the Temple was; the white marble floors were hidden for all of the soldiers, even Stormcloaks among them. The dull ache began to come back, and I needed to clear my head; flicking my fingers, I began to cast the healing spell.

"We have to find him," I said quietly. Tristane nodded.

"I know."

"You're not mad?"

"Hah. Ellie-belly, if I got mad at every mind-numbing, idiotic thing you're done in your life I'd have broke my head ten years ago. But… your judgment always proves itself eventually…"

"My brother is a good man," Farkas eventually joined, sparing a sideward glance to Tristane. My brother's face became hard.

"And I'm glad he is, he better be…" he replied, "But I'm not. And I have friends in low places."

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, you're the scary big brother…"

"Ah I'm teasing. Cursed dog-man or not I'd rather my baby sister wind up with a noble Companion than those rakes you see hiding out in the Guild."

"Hypocrite."

"I've been called worse. Whoah, easy," he said as I sat up, wincing. I waved them off though, swinging my feet over the side of my cot.

"I'm fine. They need the bed and I need to get moving."

"Alright… let's get you back to Jorrvaskr." Triss helped me to my unsteady feet, Farkas edging about outside the aura of my healing spell.

Stepping out of the temple into the sunlight, I could see for the first time the true extent of the damage. Though no soldiers had made it within the walls, the structures within had felt the damage of the fire and boulders lobbed over the fortifications.

There was a large hole in the thickly netted branches of the Gildergreen, it's soft pink blossoms and small red leaves charred black. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke, even though the haze had been mostly blown away. The architrave around us was bent and burnt… another house had been completely and utterly obliterated. I could only hope no one had been inside.

Not even Jorrvaskr had escaped totally unscathed; there were fiery holes in the ancient timber of the roof, but for the greater part, it had survived. Seeing that, I felt a little reassured that maybe the ancient mead hall would indeed be with us forever.

Every step I took, with my healing spell casting, I felt a little stronger. By the time we walked back into the welcoming safety of Jorrvaskr I was quite lucid; sore, but strong again.

"Aela!" I called out, scanning the empty space. The large hearth was dying; the Companions no doubt all out at the Jarls desperate bidding. From the side I heard someone starting quickly up the stairs, the Huntress herself coming in to view.

"Aela-" I greeted, and she spared no time in bringing me up to speed.

"The rain and ice washed a lot away. If we're going to find him it could be a task. We'll figure a plan, but you need to rest."

"No, I need to find out where in Oblivion Vilkas is before he does something he regrets," I shot; Farkas laid a huge but gentle hand on my shoulder.

"You're no good to us wounded-"

"I keep casting this spell and I can heal by the time we have a plan, so lets get this figured out." I gave a huff, for a moment closing my eyes to think.

"Okay," Aela said quietly, sounding resigned, "So, idea on how to locate him?"

"I can take care of the guards in all the major holds," Tristane voiced unexpectedly, "If there's a bounty on him or if he's sighted, we can fix it so they won't kill him."

"You can-?" I looked up to him with wide, and grateful eyes. He quirked me a half smile, but his gaze was serious.

"It involves you, this makes it Guild business." He turned to Aela, "I can keep them off your back, but you'd know more about tracking him down, am I right?"

Her lips were pursed, but she nodded. Turning her gaze away, she muttered to herself, "Working with the Thieves Guild… Alright. Farkas?"

"He was faster'n me. When I was after him he was runnin' north."

"And he hadn't doubled back since then, but he still might."

My spell slowly finished as I listened to them, arms coming in to wrap about my middle. Images from the night before danced in front of me; reaching my hand up to touch his wolf cheek, seeing the beast's silver blue eyes…

"…He's still in there," I murmured. Tristane began shaking his head.

"Ellie, he-"

"I saw it!" I said quickly, incapable of listening to my brother's doubt. He opened his mouth as if to continue, then thought better of it, simply nodding. I wrung my hands, my mind finally getting into gear.

"So let's just… he's stuck in wolf form, so he's lost, angry, acting on raw instinct."

"He'd go somewhere familiar and safe or he'd go and take out a threat. Since he can't get back to Jorrvaskr…" Aela made a thoughtful hum sound, "Farkas, was there anywhere he liked to go as a child?"

"I… no, I don't think there was anywhere special except here."

"It's possible he went to attack the Silverhand-"

I chewed at my lip, an idea coming to me; "What if we made a safe space?"

"What?"

"If he could smell something familiar, it might attract him. We'll… get his armour, stuff from Jorrvaskr, make a trail or a den or something, carry a few things with us."

"…That could work…" Aela mused, then smacked her hands together with a nod, "Okay, go strip your bed, get any dirty laundry."

My cheeks suddenly flushed. "Wait, what? Why me?"

All three of them turned and gave me identical, flat looks.

"Come now," Aela huffed, "You saw how he was, if he smells anything belonging to you he'll come running. Go! Anything you've worn a lot, sweated in… that dress, sleepwear, stays, undergarments- now is really not the time for modesty," she added on when I went to protest. Tristane only chuckled.

"Yeah… that's ma's influence."

We fragmented from where we were, splitting around the mead hall to ready ourselves for the trek.

* * *

For my short stay in Whiterun I'd been given Skjor's old quarters, stripped down to their basics some time after his passing. There were a few odd things that I'd left here rather then drag back and forth between Whiterun and Winterhold, and to the corner of the room, a small sack of dirty laundry I'd had yet to get to. I picked it up and began thoughtfully going through it, hearing Tristane cluck at me from the doorway.

"Just take the whole bag, Ellie!"

"Pardon me for not wanting my panties strewn about the Whiterun forests!" I hissed back at him. Aela gave a low cackle at me from another room and I grumbled to myself; Tristane merely grinned then strolled away. In the end I settled for my sheets, night-dress and a few tunics I'd had yet to wash, then stuffed the lot into my pillow-slip. Aela would take my ruined dress from the night before; with that much blood on it, there was a very good chance it would draw his attention.

Then it was simply a matter of redressing for a scouting trip. I'd chosen some vampire armour I'd had reworked to better fit me. And suit me. You see for the most part this armour was comfortable, functional and yes, quite attractive, but inexplicably had a T section of leather at the top that created two huge windows right above my breasts. I mean for Azura's sake, what was the point of that? I'm comfortably clothed all over, bracers on my arms, torso well protected under a sturdy black leather and steel-trimmed corset… and then a huge, gaping hole right above where my heart is, inviting an arrow. Or frostbite, this is Skyrim after all. I reason, a man must have designed it, or vampires don't really have hearts that function and so can afford to be more salacious in their manner of dressing. So the armour had been re-fashioned at the top to give my neck more mobility, and the tunic worn underneath replaced with an indigo one that offered my chest a little more warmth and protection. Then it, like almost everything else I like to wear, had been enchanted to Oblivion… I think I really overdo my enchanting sometimes…

…I digress.

When I saw there was still room in the pack, the thought occurred to me to take some things from Vilkas' own room… surely his beast would find that most familiar and welcoming. Hearing the others still readying themselves I moved quietly across the hall, pausing for a moment before slipping into Vilkas' quarters.

His scent warmed the air, familiar and inviting. Of course the candles were burnt out, so I cast a mage light in the corner of the room to get a better look at it.

Organised chaos, the lot of it. His bed was half-made, boots unceremoniously collected at the end of it. Books that could not fit on the shelf were stacked wherever they could be, and his desk had haphazard piles of papers on it. My fingers ran over the smooth, worn oak of the dresser; inside, only a few clean clothes roughly folded. My attention turned to the desk, and I slyly looked into the top drawer. Quills and inkpots, wax and a seal.

 _'You're being a snoop,'_ a voice chided in my mind and I rolled my eyes. You can't blame a girl for being curious. I also rationalised it all away, assuring myself that anything I found in here could help us in finding him.

I drew open the second drawer, tilting my head when I saw a bound bundle of parchments… with drops of purple wax on them. After a hesitant moment I pulled it out, a thick wad of neatly folded papers.

Every letter, or bit of correspondence I had sent… from what looked like the past year.

"You kept all this…?" I muttered softly, a small smile pulling at my lips. Well, of course he had, he was the Companion's unofficial lore-keeper after all, and surely letters between the… Harbinger and the Arch Mage would have some historical gravitas?

As I went to replace the letters I caught sight of something else glinting in the drawer, half folded in a kerchief. My smile broadened, and I drew it out. It was an amulet I'd forced on him, many months ago now. Yes, that's right… it was just after Tolfdir and I had uncovered the Eye of Magnus, and I was sent to retrieve some books from a squalor of Necromancers just north of Whiterun. I'd stopped by here first to break my journey, and Vilkas decided he wanted to come along…

And then, of course, we'd bickered about it. I didn't want him diving headlong into a clan of powerful magic-users, and he scoffed at the idea of them being able to hurt him, so… well, I zapped him with a little spark (a very little one, mind you) and it all descended into childishness from there. Finally I agreed to let him come with me, so long as he wore an amulet I'd enchant for him.

It hadn't been anything too special to start with. Steel, mostly, no great precious metals, though a little ebony was woven into the design of the pendant, around a blueish moonstone. I'd found it in a dungeon dive and held on to it. It was quite interesting to look at, if not very expensive.

Now I held the pendant up to the magelight. A glimmer of blue shimmered mystically over the steel, and I smiled. This lovely creation was one of the first items I had ever cast two enchantments on and even now I felt a surge of pride in looking at it. It boasted powerful magical resistance, and bolstered a persons health and resilience. I remember in the fight with the mages, seeing Vilkas catch a powerful bolt of lightning right in his chest; it ran off him like rain running down his armour. Then he had this look of astonishment, before slicing the offending mage in two with his longsword.

I'm glad he kept it… word of my 'impossible' ability to twice enchant objects was starting to spread, and I was discovering the ludicrous amounts of money people were willing to spend to have such a mythical item in their possession. He could have bought a furnished house with this. But he kept it.

I folded the kerchief around it again and debated taking it with me; soon I stuffed it safely into the pack. Any little bit might help.

"Lyrielle?"

The voice made me jump and I cleared my throat, quickly pulling the sheet from Vilkas' bed and folding it up.

"In here," I called back, Farkas popping his head around the door.

"Hey, you think maybe I should bring something from my room?" He asked slowly, and I raised an eyebrow.

"That's a good idea." I gave a definite nod and stuffed the folded sheet into another pillow-slip, "Yes… you're his brother, I think he'd be most reassured by your scent."

There was a charming moment when Farkas realised this meant he'd just had a bright idea, and a little proud smile flashed over his face. I shook my head as I slung the pillowcases over my shoulder; it wasn't the first time I'd wonder how twin brothers could be so different from one another.

We set out from Whiterun not long after, the sun setting by the time we found ourselves out by Honningbrew meadery, at the edge of the first mountain ridge that circled the basin. It was from there we'd agreed to split up and begin the hunt. Aela had full control of the situation, splitting up the fabrics between us and tearing into the sheets with an iron dagger.

"Okay. Farkas, get back to where we found them, hang some strips of the sheet in the trees, get the scent going, then patrol the local mountains. Lyrielle, you take the north east, I'll go north west."

I nodded, "If we find him?"

"… We meet back at the apiaries at Honningbrew Meadery tomorrow night. If not, you send a courier. Ria will send a note from Jorrvaskr if he comes home."

"Do you want me going too?" Tristane asked again, arms folded over his chest. Aela seemed to truly consider it a moment, but then resolutely shook her head.

"That'd be a bad idea," she said solemnly, "If he's still in his wolf form, he'd turn on you far too quickly."

I felt my grip tighten on the swag of fabric and clothing, worry flooding me. _If he's still in his wolf form…_ and what if he can't turn back?

"Tristane, you can take care of the holds…" I said softly, looking to my big brother. Though, it was the Guildmaster by my side now. His eyes were shadowy, his expression carved of stone. This was business.

"Aye," he said with a nod to me, "I've got the holds."

Farkas grunted where he fiddled with his pack, and Aela nodded, readjusting her quiver, "Alright, let's get movi-"

When we looked up Tristane was already gone, vanished into the shadows. I rolled my eyes.

"Show off!" I bleated to the mountains. I swear I heard him chuckle.

* * *

I was no great tracker, and wasn't about to become one that night.

For some time I simply trekked through the mountains, further up north, scanning for signs of disturbance. It was hard to see anything after the mess the battle and storm had made… tracks were obscured by hundreds of footprints and deep carved marks of the catapults. At least up in the rockier parts of the mountains, it was clearer. Now and then I'd tie off some fabric onto a tree, though ultimately it was more to let me know where I'd already been, and where to backtrack.

Getting tired and the night air growing cold and biting, I got a little fed up, and sat myself on a boulder to think. There was little to see now, through the tall stretches of trees, but the clear air and isolation seemed to help.  
 _  
'There's no point going around in circles, ice-brain,'_ I chided to myself. _'Surely there's some sort of spell to track, a spell to guide you-?'_

The idea hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Ohhh… I'm an _idiot!_ " I groaned aloud, thumping my palm against my head. Of course I could damn well track him! I began hunting through the fabric of the bag, fishing out the pendant. Drawing a deep breath, I closed my eyes, fingers curling around the cold steel, and summoned a spell.

I was not so practised in my Illusion spells as I was other schools, so the fact I knew this particular spell I suppose had slipped my mind. Clairvoyance was tricky, and required great focus, but when done right could safely lead you to your next goal. But, as I said, focus was required. The first time I'd tried using it was to locate a book I'd lost at the College. But I'd been hungry, and the spell wound up leading me to an apple pie in the kitchen.

It was a good pie, but the book didn't show up for days.

I blocked out every other thought and desire, for a warm bed or hot meal. I held on to the pendant tighter, and for the first time truly allowed my mind to indulge in thoughts of Vilkas. I'd locked my thoughts and feelings away for so long… it took time to really let them free. What had I been taught? Focus on the object, the situation, then on what you want.

 _He thrust the hilt of the sword at me. "Take that up to Eorlund to be sharpened. And don't drop it, it's probably worth more than you are."_

My nose twitched. Later memory, later…

 _He sat across from me, glowering, "Fighting a Dragon. What are your assets?"_

 _"What?"_

 _"There is something big and you're trying to kill it, what weapons do you have? What can you do?"_

 _I wracked my brain; I was no warrior… "I can shout?"_

He'd talked me through it. I'd lost the Blades, and he taught me how to trust my own power, how to fight without them.  
 _  
"So now you know everything you need. Your voice, your magic, your staff, your stealth. You're not me, Lyrielle. You never will be. If you went up against Alduin with heavy armour and a longsword you'd be dead before you lifted it above your head. So it's a waste of what precious little time you have trying to be that stone carving the Akaviri made. You know what your strengths are. Play to them."_

Scolding and bossy and right. We still fought like cats and dogs but there was a true sense of camaraderie to it. Then came Solsthiem, and even now a twinge of guilt crept through my stomach.

 _A new rush of anger was flooding me, but for different reasons. "What business is it of yours? I had my reasons for going-"_

 _"-A reason to leave Skyrim but not a reason to lie to everyone-"_

 _"-I never once lied! I wasn't the one who started the rumour the Dragonborn never returned from Sovngarde, or anything of the sort. There was nothing left for me in Skyrim, and more than enough calling me away so I left!"_

 _"And didn't tell anyone!"_

That fight haunted me, but it had purged us. Everything that had been hidden in snide remarks and petty jabs was laid open and bare. I saw his soul that day, the day we went for the Silverhand. I saw his thirst for revenge, and how the raw fire in his heart nearly burned him alive.

 _"…You sound just like him," Vilkas said quietly, then peered up at me with that hunting, searching gaze, "What do you know of revenge?"_

 _"I know we're sitting in the middle of it. I know it's the difference between an execution and murder. I know if you carry a grudge long enough, all that hatred and bitterness will become a curse."_

My heart began picking up pace, the events of much later that night burning to the front of my mind…  
 _  
He brushed his calloused thumb over my bottom lip, savouring the moment when we kissed again, the viciousness melting away._

How many times had I told myself, told him, it was nothing? That I was reacting from another who had broken my heart, or we'd had too much to drink, or we both just needed comfort…

But I thought about that night. For a year, I thought about that night… in every conversational letter, every visit to Whiterun. Every time I'd remind myself how great it was that we were now friends. The edges of the pendant were digging into my hands, leaving welts and growing hot as the spell charged, growing more powerful by the second.

 _My lips parted in a little shock, when I found myself looking into silver eyes._

 _"Vilkas…" I ran my hand up the side of the werewolf's face to a furry cheek, and he licked at my wrist. "Oh Vilkas, what have you done…?"_

The spell crackled, ready. What was the subject? The wolf. What is the situation? He's lost. And what do I want?

 _I want Vilkas._

"To find him!" I corrected aloud and with a little panic. By the Gods, no wonder Tristane thinks I'm a prude, if I have to censor my thoughts when I'm alone.

I felt the spell pulse and I drew in a breath, light dancing in my eyes. When I looked around, I could see the bright, glowing trail, stronger than I'd ever seen it, guiding a path through the forest. A smirk of success crossed my lips and I stood from the boulder, slipping the amulet around my neck and slinging the pack of fabric onto my back.

I'd cast a powerful spell, beyond what I thought I was capable of. The light guided me through the thick forest and I laid all my trust in it as I hurried, reinvigorated, alive. The nipping cold and low rumble of hunger was forgot entirely with this new rush of hope; I didn't even stop to tie strips of fabric into the trees. However, the trail wasn't ending… for perhaps an hour I followed it, further and further north, even as frost began to grow on the trees in the night. I huddled my cloak around me a little tighter and charged on.

The icy air nipped harder at my face as the ground began to slope up and get rockier, the trees taller. He'd covered a lot of ground in the hunt… and new worry twisted in my stomach when I sensed we were close to either the Pale, or Eastmarch, both Stormcloak territory. Soon, I found my fears justified…

Angry shouts could be heard as I made it over the rise of another outcrop, the silver trail of my spell leading to the gold firelight of a camp through the tall trees, lighting the source of the commotion. My blood ran cold at the unmistakeable wolfish roar-

"Vilkas!" I gasped, breaking into a sprint even as lungs and legs burned. Reaching the clearing I could see Stormcloaks desperately carrying their wounded away while others battled with a huge, hulking black creature, his clawed paws swiping and cutting through them, teeth gnashing and crunching on a man's arm. Snarling he shook his head and near ripped the limb off when he threw the soldier into the trunk of a tree.

"Vilkas NO!" I cried out, and without thinking sprinted forward into the fray. His ears pricked at my voice and the wolf turned to look at me, though only for a moment; a thick chain whipped around his neck and yanked him to the side, another around a powerful arm with at least four soldiers on each trying to restrain him. My lungs burned as I tried to close the distance, seeing a hulking Stormcloack soldier closing in on him, battle-axe held high-

I skidded over the ice and under Vilkas' arm as the shining blade swooped down at him, my lungs filling with air and fury.

 _"FUS ROH DAH!"_

The air cracked and the soldier was thrown back along with his allies behind him, my shout gouging a long trench in the light snow and trampled mud. Vilkas roared and wrenched his arm around, whipping away the soldiers on the length of the chain, those holding the other dropping it and scattering to help defend their friends. There was a half beat when I met their eyes…

But I wasn't looking for a fight tonight, and after their defeat at Whiterun I don't believe they were either. I grabbed at one of the chains and started running, shouting at Vilkas to follow for the few seconds we had before arrows came raining down. He was confused, limping, snarling and snapping before turning and bolting into the woods; I'd only just enough time to swing up onto his shoulders before he would have dragged me along by the chain.

Though I had somehow incited Vilkas to abandon the fight, I had as much control over him now as a flea; he bounded swiftly through the forest, leaving behind the faint whistles and thuds of stray arrows I believe the soldiers were obligated to send after us. It was only as the night began to quiet around us he started to slow, the limping becoming more pronounced.

Cold and darkness enveloped the woods, and sunk down into my bones. Adrenaline left only room for pragmatic thoughts; we must have been at the northern edge of the Whiterun hold, I considered, and I couldn't afford to have him carrying me any further north. When the pace had slowed enough I slid down from his back, trying to slow him by holding the chain steady.

"…Vilkas?" I asked softly. His ears flickered back to the source of my voice, but the creature didn't respond, instead lurching forward to a rocky outcrop cut out of the ascent of the mountain. It wasn't till we neared it I saw the darkness indicating the entrance to a cave, the trees and stone around the entrance heavily clawed up. Territory markers; Vilkas must have chosen this place. He lumbered inside and down the slight slope; cautiously, I cast a candlelight spell, and followed him in.

The cave dipped down slightly, the base covered with a patted down bed of dirt and pine needles, a musty scent suggesting it was once the home of a cave bear; all the same, I recall having rested in places worse.

Vilkas lurched on all fours, hind legs and his right arm supporting more of his weight as he limped; soon with a tired huff he slumped to the ground, a low moan rumbling from his wolf mouth. I went to his side and started to inspect his injuries; there were some arrows sticking from him, but they hadn't gotten too far past his leathery skin.

I muttered soothing nothings to him, wrapping fingers around one arrow and gently easing his from the skin. He gave a sharp huff but stayed quite still, skin jumping when the next arrow was freed. A little blood pooled from the wounds but nothing much to worry about; it was where the chain had struck him that had me anxious.

There was a reason the chain that had wrapped around his neck had stuck so securely; the end held a grapple hook, the claw-like contraption having gouged long tears into his skin and muscle before catching in the meat of his shoulder. My stomach turned, a mixture of fury and incredible guilt… I'd been using that chain to try and pull him along, how it must have hurt him!

"Easy now… this will hurt, but I need you to be tough for me, yes?" I said softly, letting my hand stroke over a pointed ear. His crystalline eyes rolled to look at me, watching warily. I swallowed hard, taking the claw in one hand and bracing against his arm with the other. "I'll make it quick, pup. One… two…"

At three I pushed, up and out. He snapped and roared and pulled away, turning to lick at the fresh river of blood that oozed from the wound, but the offensive weapon was gone at least. Regardless, I waited for that dangerous hum in the air to recede before I even attempted to approach him again. His ears flattened back, and he softly growled.

"None of that now. I need to have a look. It's alright…"

It was hard to see the wounds under the thick black fur; I had to look for the glistening patch of blood in the puddle of moonlight that shone through the mouth of the cave. I summoned a healing spell, going to hold my hands to it; but the moment the warm tendrils of light circled him Vilkas roared and snapped at me, skittering away and dragging his wounded self along.

"Vilkas! Shhh, it's alright," I tried; he bared white fangs at me, bleeding and wounded he tried to stand and move away then again fell to the ground with a thud. Anxiety curled in my stomach and I swallowed; the wolf, the beast, was so unpredictable. But I had to have faith the man was still in there. I had to believe that, because the alternative made my heart twist in my chest.

"Come now, you know me," I said quietly, edging forward. The wolf glared at me through it's exhaustion, hackles raised as I reached out a hand. My fingers slowly sunk into the fur over his head, the wolf leaning into the touch after a moment. I shuffled in close, trying to lift his massive head a little, trying to make him look at me. There were those silver-blue eyes, pale as ice, watching me warily. I was so sure I'd seen him in there, so sure he could turn back; had it all been wishful thinking? Did I only see what I wanted?

"…Let me help you," I added, keeping eye contact with him as I moved my hand away, conjuring the light again. He growled, low and threatening and when I tried to cast thrashed his head and snapped. I clamped my fingers shut and snuffed out the spell with angry frustration, quickly patting him over the head.

"Alright, alright… I won't."

He was huffing slowly, limbs giving a tremor while ever he tried to support himself. I felt utterly useless, and beyond frustrated; I considered just firing the healing spell at him, but what if he ran? When he'd rescued me in the battle, brought me to safety, guarded me, I felt sure it was because he still had some control, some cognitive function. But now… it was getting harder and harder to see the man behind the Beast.

Earth bunched under his paw-like hands as he began slumping down. Gingerly, I ran fingers over his ears, something he seemed to like because he let his massive head finally rest into my lap. It was strangely comforting, and my fingers found a rhythm stroking over his head. The mental image came then of us in this position, if he were human… resting, his head in my lap, my hands running through his hair… as a human, would he ever let his guard down enough to be like that?

"Overgrown pup…"

…Then the reality of it all began to settle down on me, that I may never know the answer to that question. No shout was able to bring him back… The Beast could not be reasoned with. Had Hircine truly won? The wolf's head grew heavy in my lap and I realised my hands were shaking…

Was Vilkas… _gone?_

It felt so wrong, so impossibly cruel! Were it Aela or Skjor locked into their wolf form it would have been forgivable, but Vilkas? He'd tried so hard, fought to control the blood, how could it have won out like this? A man of such honour, intelligence, integrity, doomed to live his days as a mindless Beast, a slave to Hircine? I shook my head slowly at the unfairness of it all, wishing it wasn't even a possibility-

 _…I'll never see him again…_

That thought hit like a mace in the chest, a literal pain and loss of breath lancing through me. The wolf made a small noise, looking up at me even with my grip still tight in his fur. I felt strangled by invisible hands, leaning forward to rest my head over his. My breaths were shuddering and rasping out of me; I didn't want to believe it was true.

"Vilkas… please, _please_ just… _try,_ " I whispered, swallowing down a thick lump in my throat, "I know you're in there, I know you can fight it. You have to. You've got more humanity in you than anyone, you can't have been that clever for nothing, you can't let it end like this, please, _please_ … not you."

The sob beat out of me quite suddenly, muffled by the warm pelt; I clung to him tighter, wishing I could feel the human lost in there somewhere and draw him out. This wasn't fair… the tears were running freely now, soaking into the coarse fur, a year of repression finally released and I let myself cry. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right! What were we to do without him? The Companions _need_ him. And Farkas! What was Farkas going to do without his twin, his brother looking out for him? And Aela, already so solitary… I wrapped my arms around the wolf tighter, holding on as I cried.

"Stupid, stupid mutt, how are we to get on without you?"

Visions of a life without him starting to coalesce. Alone at the College and never having another letter to give me respite from my work… returning to Jorrvaskr without him there to tease and talk to… I'd never adventure with him again, never argue with him or laugh with him or touch him or hold him…

I was drained of my tears. My sobs became long, shallow breaths as finally all my fear and frustration was cried out of me… I felt hollow and dry as a drauger, because at that moment I came to my final, horrible realisation…

"…I _love_ you, Vilkas," I mumbled, "And Gods know, I'm so, _so_ sorry, I've been such an idiot… you have to come back."

The wolf shifted under me and I sat up again, his snout coming up to nuzzle at my hair. Then a wide, slobbering tongue swiped over my face. I idly patted his head, too drained to even bother wiping my cheek. Gently I slid my hands over the thick fur, remembering Vilkas' hair was a little softer, though just as endlessly black. The wolf's eyes were much the same, if canine instead of human. So guarded but so expressive, bright blue shot through with silver, like those ancient Dwemer ceramics. I was told, if a pot or bowl was broken the Dwarves used to mend it back together with molten gold or silver rather than throwing it away. It was understood then, the object was considered more beautiful for having been broken.

 _…So… I'm in love,_ I thought with a sigh. That epiphany was not in the least bit welcome, not when the object of my affection was in all likelihood lost to me forever. With a sniff I looked out of the mouth of the cave, where a small slash of starry sky could be seen.

"…Is this a joke, Mara? Is this payback for something?"

The wolf huffed with as much exasperation. He was exhausted, still occasionally giving a quiver of pain. I rested over him a little sleepily, trying to piece as much together in my mind as I could; it had been one long night, and I needed him healthy. I lifted my hand, trying once more at summoning the healing spell, a soft orange orb glowing in my palm. Vilkas purred a low growl.

"Enough of that," I said tiredly, "I wouldn't take it from you if you were human I'll be damned if I'm taking that attitude from a pup. Here, look at me."

The wolf blinked at me warily, still humming a growl and his nose crinkled when I held the light out by it, still not casting. When I went to move my hands under his fur, ready to cast his began baring his teeth, growl rumbling louder and louder-

 _"Kaan, Drem OV-"_

My voice pulsed through the cave and the wolf blinked, snarl fading as his body seemed to relax. I pressed my hands onto him then, releasing the spell. Vilkas blinked and shook his wolf head, visibly brightening as the magic wove through his body. I didn't know how much I was healing him, I could not see for all the fur and blood, so I simply pressed on and on with the spell even as my magica reserves dried up and the light sputtered out of my fingers. I slumped forward onto the warm fur of the wolf, drained.

"…I must practise Restoration more… that should not have been so taxing."

The wolf lazily snapped its jaws and made a grumbling sound, to which I rolled my eyes.

"Oh well if you're so clever, you do it then," I mumbled at him. The wolf got up then, still with a slight limp but decided on inspecting his cave, sniffing about. Cold morning light was creeping in through the mouth of the cave, promising a clear and frosty morning. I huddled the cloak around me tighter, shifting to sit up against the stone wall and tried not to sleep, determined to keep an eye on the werewolf. But it had been a long night… drained of magic and emotion there was little I could do to stop sleep creeping into the corners of my eyes.


	4. The Cure

**Thank you for reviews and surprising support! Very glad you're all enjoying!**

* * *

…Warm midday light cut across my eyes as the sun passed the mouth of the cave. I was stiff and sore from the uncomfortable position and cold stone, tugging my cloak around my shoulders and squeezing my eyes shut tighter. But then my other senses began to wake; I smelt something off, blood and something else foul, then heard the squelching and tearing of flesh. Rubbing my eyes I blinked blearily across the cave, a hot rush of bile racing up my throat.

Vilkas was hunched over a fresh kill, a huge black bear. He tore the pelt off with his claws and from what I could see, had already devoured heart and liver, now enjoying himself by chewing on thick chunks of fat or crunching down on a rib. A smear of blood ran from the mouth of the cave to where they were, and I blanched.

"…You couldn't have just eaten it where you killed it?" I groaned and he blinked up at me, silver-blue eyes bright, pink tongue flashing as he licked blood from his maw. He sunk his teeth and claws into the carcass and drew it closer to me, thudding it down, then gave me an expectant look. An intestine from the bear had ruptured, spilling a thick dark ooze; it was getting very hard not to vomit.

"…Oh… for me…?" I asked with a small voice. He licked his nose again and gave a huff. I was torn; it was a sweet gesture, really, and admittedly I felt quite flattered. He'd gone an killed an actual bear to share. It was also _absolutely disgusting.  
_  
"I'm alright, really. Not hungry. I don't think I'll ever be hungry against to be honest. You enjoy your kill, your food, alright?"

He nudged the carcass closer to me.

"No, you eat it."

Growl.

"I don't want any. You're bigger than me, you need more food."

Grumble. Eventually he dug claws into the bear and ripped out a thick chunk of muscle from its back, shovelling it into his mouth in an almost human way before diving in face-first. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty as I got up, wandering to the mouth of the cave to look out.

If I had to guess, we were on the border to the Pale. Tall pine and a lot of frost, still quite mountainous country. We should be able to travel fairly easily through the day, so long as we stayed clear of the roads, and be back by Honningbrew by nightfall. For the first time in a long time I felt something dangerously close to regret, that I was not a werewolf. It would take much less time for us to get back if I were able to change. And what was I going to do? Wander about with him on a chain? 'Oh, don't mind me, just walking the dog…'

…Could I, perhaps…? I glanced over my shoulder at him as he sat there merrily crunching at the bear's head to get at the brain locked inside it's skull. He did seem to understand me somewhat… obey me, even. To an extent at least. I decided to take that as a hopeful sign, and spying the loosed chain laying looped on the ground, let the idea form in my mind.

* * *

It was slow goings at first; he didn't take right away to the chain looped around his neck and I had to be careful not to pressure him too much. He also tended to follow the scents of other animals instead of the path I wanted. It was only when I threw the chain down with a little exasperation and stalked off to a small spring for a drink I realised something…

He did not like to have me out of his sight. I turned only to see him watching me, growling as I would try to leave and reluctantly following along, making annoyed sounds that admittedly made me smile. Perhaps the chain wasn't needed after all… though his unpredictability made me uncomfortable, so around his neck it remained, as some sort of insurance.

A good amount of sunlight was wasted on working out how to travel together and I seemed to be leading him on a crooked path through the mountains. When I felt the sun cross toward the west the low ache of hunger in my stomach was joined by a pinch of a headache. It didn't bother me too much; as a child, I had learned to be hungry and to treat that hollow feeling as something familiar. All the same, I began habitually stripping snowberry bushes as we walked, letting the strong, tart flavours burst in my mouth and keep the gnawing at bay.

Last thing I wanted was the wolf thinking I was hungry and dropping a half-eaten doe at my feet.

As my hands slid in their practised manner down the branch of a snowberry bush, gathering up the small red fruit, my fingers snagged on a twisted bit of white fabric; looking around, I had to smile, recalling the place vaguely from the night before. I pulled the fabric loose, holding it to Vilkas to sniff at. He picked up the scent, tail actually flopping side to side for a moment. I petted his ears with gentle tugs.

"That's right. Home. We need to go Home, Vilkas," I urged, "You can follow this trail, can't you?"

His pace picked up and he started lumbering ahead till I needed to run along side him; eventually I just scrambled onto his back, the little flea holding on. He would stop and sniff at each bit of fabric, hackles raising if there was the scent of my blood, but I would urge him on, retracing my first venture through the woods.

Night fell… and from there, I could only trust he was following the right path. I hugged my cloak tighter and pressed myself to his back, soaking in the warmth through his fur, lulled by the rhythm of his strides, till the warm lights of the Honningbrew Meadery came into sight.

I gently tugged at the chain to try and slow him; his ears pricked as he glared down the hill, spying something I couldn't see in the dark that he began creeping towards.

"Easy, Vilkas," I murmured but he was sniffing hard at the air. As we got closer to the apiaries I could see two figures moving about, and the murmur of familiar voices. My heart soared.

"Aela? Farkas?" I whispered through the dark, and they answered in turn.

"Lyrielle?"

"You found him!"

I slid from his back, gently tugging the growling beast forward by the chain, "Yes. Easy, Vilkas, this is your family…"

"…He didn't change back." Farkas' voice was low and flat when he stated what was obvious. He carried in one hand a weighted sack that looked like it had blood pooling at the bottom of it. Going up to Vilkas he held out a wary hand, that the wolf sniffed at, calming at the familiarity. I stroked Vilkas' ears with the gentle tugs I'd gotten accustomed to.

"No… but at least we have him now. And he's not that out of control, he will listen to me… well, to some extent."

"You look tired," Aela commented, offering me something warm wrapped in cheesecloth, "Cheese pastries, from the meadery."

I took them gratefully; a few handfuls of snowberries over nearly two days hadn't been nearly enough, so I tucked into the still-warm pastries with relish. Farkas had his hand on Vilkas' head, staring silently into his brother's eyes, their unspoken, unbreakable bond. That silence then stretched to the rest of us, no one wanting to say what was obvious now…

Vilkas was a lost one.

It was Aela who eventually managed to say something that suggested it; "I don't think he'll be changing back on his own."

"So we use the witches head," Farkas said, taking me by a little surprise. He held up the weighted sack he had been carrying, making it apparent it was a Hagraven's head inside… "It worked for Kodlak, and for you, it should work for Vilkas too, right?"

"Well… yes, theoretically." I was starting to feel ashamed with how surprised I was every time Farkas had a clever idea. He must have decided to hunt down a witch of his own accord.

Aela's jaw set. "It was Farkas' idea. But that wouldn't just change him back, it would 'cure' him completely."

"I don't think he'd mind," I said quietly, "He felt different about the blood than you, Aela."

"The blood is not a curse."

"Not to you, or to Skjor. It's a gift when you can accept it, when you can choose it. Right now, Vilkas doesn't have a choice. And when you don't have a choice, it's a curse… Aela, you've known him since he was a child. Do you think this is what he wants?"

She glanced away, "…No. He wouldn't."

Quiet settled again. The ritual would involve travelling to Ysgramor's tomb in the frozen North beyond Winterhold, luckily, turf I was familiar with. But from here, at least two solid days travel.

"We'd best get moving now, while we have the night to cover us," Aela decided rather loudly, "We'll leave word here for your brother, and Ria. If we travel in our wolf form, we should make it over the mountain range in near half the time."

I decided against arguing; it seemed Aela needed to be in control of something right now, and I wouldn't be one to take it away from her.

We counted on the giants and their mammoth herds to distract from the three conspicuous werewolves racing across the Whiterun basin; Vilkas seemed far more confident with his pack members either side of him so once again, I was along for the ride, just holding on to the chain and his fur. I recall little of the journey; my body was aching with exhaustion and cold, and I spent most of the long hours hiding my face in the thick fur still tacky with Vilkas' dried blood.

Aela broke us for rest only once; I recall slowing down, my hands twisted up in the chains to stop me from sliding from Vilkas' back and my body cold, cramped and sore. I must have been nearly asleep. Aela had transformed back, only bothering to put on the loose green shift of cloth she usually wore under her nordic armour; the woman might as well have been naked, but still perfectly comfortable in the frost and early morning light.

A small fire was made and a meal of snowberries and roots had, though Farkas remained in his wolf form, chasing about after his brother. Aela and I were sitting by the fire when I caught the rare expression of sadness in her eyes. I offered her a few of the blood red snowberries.

"You're still not happy about this," I said quietly.

"…No. But it's for selfish reasons," She confessed, chin lifted. "Farkas won't be a wolf long after Vilkas changes."

"Probably not." A beat of silence, "…Aela, there'd be nothing wrong with you creating other pack members. So long as they know what they're in for, that it goes beyond death."

"You forgive me for… glossing over that point before we turned you?" She asked, and for the very first time since I've met her, I was amazed to see her look contrite. It stirred forgiveness instantly.

"I try to stay out of the business of bearing grudges, now. It's never done me any good. To be honest, even if I knew, I think I would have still done it. I was so that scared that I'd be too weak to defeat Alduin I might well have sold my soul to any Daedra. Still, I did it for the wrong reasons. You deserve a pack that's devoted to the blood; they're out there, somewhere."

Aela looked over to where the boys were growling and snapping at each other in a play fight. Farkas was clearly the stronger, but Vilkas was nimble and far more wily. Farkas barrelled hard into his brother and the two tumbled in what looked like a vicious wrestling match, but I'd seen enough of what werewolves could do to know they were only playing.

"…They haven't changed," she said quietly, her expression stoic, "I just wish they didn't fear the Wilds so much."

I decided not to argue. Aela needed to mourn the loss of her pack before creating a new one for herself; she'd always seemed so solitary it was easy to forget how she felt about the Circle. I curled up on the ground close to the fire, getting what little sleep could be afforded.

At first morning light we set off in earnest for Winterhold. Having to avoid the roads and mountain passes meant scaling some rather steep cliffs, so for most of the way Aela and Farkas travelled as wolves. I again surrendered pride and piggy-backed my way along; by this time Vilkas seemed quite content with carrying me.

"Perhaps we shouldn't change you back," I mused aloud at one point, "A werewolf certainly makes a greater statement than a horse."

I could almost hear the sarcastic response he should have given, but instead the wolf just yawned and continued bounding across the mountains with his pack.

We halted as we came down the North side of Mount Anthor, the Sea of Ghosts stretching out before us, the tower of the College off in the distance. Aela looked over her shoulder at me and gave a human nod, starting to trot down the snowy slope. I leant forward slightly and Vilkas leapt forward, running down the mountainside with ease, gliding in the snow. My breath caught in my throat as we gathered speed, wind racing against us.

At the corner of my eye I saw Farkas bounding in the snow to keep up and I had to laugh; he'd always seemed a bit reserved, tough but good-natured. When he was a werewolf he could act like such a dope! He started chasing at Aela when she caught up and barrelled into her, the two tumbling along in the powder before regaining their footing. I could do little more but cling to Vilkas' back as we flew, the pack thundering along as the snow evened out at the bottom of the mountain. We skirted wide around the Saarthal excavation, finally slowing at the icy slopes that slipped down to the sea.

Farkas looked nervous, pacing back and forth along the stony shoreline; the last time he had been here, he and I had gone through the ice. Now that spring was upon us again the sheets covering the ocean were breaking away in some places, and it was left to Aela to find the safest way across. We stuck as close to shoreline as possible, and the wolves leapt over whatever looked too thin to hold them. All the same, nerves twisted in my stomach and would not settle till we were safe on the island that held Ysgramor's tomb.

I slid from Vilkas' back, stretching sore limbs. Aela and Farkas transformed back without warning, stark naked and leisurely redressing in the armour that had been strapped to them. Well, Farkas seemed to search for some sort of privacy; Aela saw no cause for shame.

"…Vilkas?"

He stood, mostly upright though the knuckles of his right hand… paw… rested on the ground. His ears were flat back, snout crinkled. I beckoned him, to no avail. Then picked up the chain and gently tugged him, realising then he wouldn't be moved, only glaring icy daggers at the tomb that rose before him.

"Come on," I grunted, pulling on the chain; Vilkas just snarled and flashed his teeth at me, refusing to budge and dug his paws in to the rocky beach. I threw my hands up.

"Vilkas, we did not come all this way for you to get stubborn about the tomb," I snapped. He huffed and sat flatly on the ground, and I rubbed a hand over my hair. Farkas turned and frowned;

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think he wants to go underground…"

Farkas slid back down the side of the mound, picking up the end of the chain and taking it from me.

"C'mon brother," he growled, and started pulling. After a moment of heaving he actually managed to start dragging the massive werewolf along the stony beach, Vilkas' snarl getting darker and angrier till he finally snapped, wrenching back and pulling free from Farkas.

"What's the hold up?" Aela called from the bottom of the barrow and I sighed, rubbing my brow. He was prowling around in a grump now, but then, the idea came to me.

"Fine. Fine stay here then." Turning I started over the mound after Aela and encouraged Farkas ahead of me, "I'll just go off into this ancient, haunted tomb. Could be some giant spiders down there that are going to eat me, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

About to start down the stone steps to the entrance of the barrow Vilkas snarled and bounded in front of me, baring his teeth. Nose in the air I ducked under his arm.

"No, I'm going in. You sit here and sulk all you want."

"You can't stop her brother!" Farkas teased, starting to have a good chuckle at the wolf's expense as he entered the tomb. Vilkas crouched at the top of the barrow, looking down at me and giving a low growl when I shoved the iron door open, slipping inside with my Shield Siblings. I cast candlelight, sinking into the silent tomb, the mighty statue of Ysgramor towering before me and a smirking Aela and Farkas.

Behind us Vilkas gave a low howl into the tomb and I slipped out of sight… after some more quiet howls, a clanking of a chain dragging on the stones told me he finally started creeping in.

"He mustn't think you're very good at protecting yourself," Aela commented with a wry smile. I could only roll my eyes. There was a shorter way down to the tomb Aela and I had opened the first time, but Vilkas being big as he was, we doubted he could make it down the narrow and rather rickety wooden spiral stairs.

"Looks like we're taking the scenic route," Aela grumbled. Picking up the chain I gently pulled it to encourage Vilkas along, and the wolf sullenly followed.

It was a long way into the heart of the tomb, rooms winding down deeper and deeper. No spectral warriors stood in our way this time, though Aela still kept an arrow nocked in her bow.

"Uurghh…" Farkas groaned, seeing the thick, white cobwebs starting to gather on the walls, "The big crawly ones'r comin' up, huh? Did you get them all last time?"

"Yes, but there were egg sacks," I warned, summoning a spell just in case. Vilkas' hackles raised and he started snarling, sniffing at the air as we moved into another room, the nest of the spiders we had to get past. The walls and floor were thickly lined with tough, white webbing and husks of egg sacks. From the ceiling hung the cocoons of desiccated, ancient corpses. Behind me I could hear Farkas shuddering and giving another groan.

"Nope. Nope, nope, nope."

"Shh!"

Then came the skittering, squelching sound, and the creatures crawled from the webs, one the size of a cow. Aela let her arrow fly and Vilkas leapt forward so suddenly I was yanked forward as the chain was pulled from my hand, landing flat on my face in the dusty webs. He swiped at the skittering bodies, crushing them into greenish goo and roared when one spat venom at him. Aela had drawn her sword and was hacking at them now, and I thrust my hands out, lightning shooting and snapping through their little twitching bodies.

Aela stabbed down into the largest spider's head, twisting the blade and it shuddered as it finally collapsed. Vilkas was still wild and roaring, swiping at anything that moved and Aela had to dodge out of the way of his massive paw. I scrambled over and grabbed at the chain on his neck, yanking him down.

"Whoah! Vilkas, easy! Calm down, it's done!"

He snapped at me and I tapped him hard on the nose, making him snort and shake his head. Giving me a glare he roared in my face as if to make a point, before finally calming down. He turned, chewing and licking at a wound on his arm that I went to inspect; a spider's fang was wedged into the muscle. I sneakily cast a healing spell over the wound as I carefully eased the fang out, dropping it on the floor and he rewarded me with a disgusting, slobbery lick over the face. Aela chuckled, cautiously coming back out now Vilkas was calmed.

"How do you _do_ that?" she asked, and I grinned.

"He knows who's boss."

"I dare you to tell him that when he's human again."

"…Are they gone?" Farkas called from the far side of the nest, making Aela sigh.

"Yes, you craven milk-drinker. Hurry up."

A little embarrassed, Farkas moved cautiously back to us through the nest and we wove our way through the tomb.

Ysgramor's final resting place was cavernous; Farkas was in silent awe as we moved about the peaceful, silent space, looking on curiously at the small plinth in the centre, and the eternal blue flame that flowed in it like water.

"So… this is it, huh?"

"Yes. Give her the head," Aela said quietly, "Then I suppose it's best we move back, let Vilkas be the closest to the flame."

Farkas gingerly drew the Hagraven's head out, handing it to me and with a grimace I grabbed it by the thin, white hair, stepping over to the silently burning fire. It was strange, being back there, another witch's head to sacrifice. It had worked for me, and for Kodlak, but I had no certainty it would work for Vilkas; what if he had to be the one to drop it in? Or what if… he really was gone? All I could do was hope, to pray to the Divines that this would heal him and bring him back to us.

I held the head over the bowl of flame, sparing one unsure look back over to Aela and Farkas… then released my grip and the head fell into the bowl, consumed in a rush of flames.

Beside me Vilkas buckled suddenly, wrenching and giving an agonised bellow; a cry that shook the walls, that could break stone. I stumbled back and watched on in horror as the wolf twisted and shook, the roar splitting into a wolfish howl and a human scream of pain that drowned out his brother's frightened shout. He stumbled and writhed - then the transformation began. I'd seen a werewolf transform back before, I'd experienced it myself, but this time instead of simply shrinking back into a human form, the wolf seemed to… crawl from his body, tearing out of his flesh and leaving a human shell to crumple on the ground.

The spectral wolf was massive and red, snarling as it turned vivid white eyes on me. With a flick of my hands I summoned my spells, snapping ebonyflesh around my skin and summoning lightning. It leapt forward as Farkas and Aela charged in with battle cries.

Dodging, I let my spells fly and Aela and Farkas swung their swords at the beast. It snapped and swiped at them, one massive clawed paw slashing through Farkas' middle. It's so strange to see, the attack didn't throw him, it didn't seem to touch him but he still buckled in pain. Farkas rallied, lunging his sword forward and I threw more bolts of lightning at the beast. It was buckling, weakening even as it snapped it's jaws and I gritted my teeth, static making my hair stand on end as I drew all my energy into the one powerful thunderbolt. I would destroy that monster!

I shouted and shoved my hands forward, shockwaves crackling over the ethereal body of the wolf, as the Companions lunged swords at it. Aela's sword chimed loudly against Farkas' and wolf gave a loud, painful howl, disappearing as my lightning crackled through it… and it was gone, the howl echoing and fading through the tomb.

Farkas blinked up at Aela and me, smiling with relief; I looked past him to where his brother lay, bare on the cold stone.

"Vilkas-"

We all rushed to him. I slid down onto my knees, undoing the clasp of my cloak and laying the wool over him, wrapping it around his shoulders as I tried to pull him into my lap. My hand rested on his cheek, the face I'd longed to see again now sallow and tired, his stubble overgrown to a short beard.

"Is… he alright?" Farkas ventured, his throat sounding tight. I let my hand slide down to rest over Vilkas' heart, a gentle, slow beat responding. Beneath the coarse dark hairs over his chest, purplish, fractal bruises were starting to litter his skin like spiders webs, and cuts were half healed, seeming brighter and bloodier than they had been when he was a wolf. The gouges over his shoulder where the chain's hook had cut him were breaking open again with fresh blood. In the back of my mind I was all too aware of his nakedness, but his strange, frightening injuries took precedence over that.

"He's alive," I said with a nod and summoned a healing spell, the golden light washing around his body, slowly sealing the cuts. He breathed in a sharply when I did, a reflexive gasp but Farkas still pulled back at the sight of the magic; even Aela flinched. I kept my eyes on Vilkas' face, mentally pleading for him to wake up.

"We can take him up to the College," I said gently, "Collette is a master of Restoration, she'll know what to do…"

His eyes flickered beneath their lids like someone in deepest sleep, and I moved a long lock of ebony hair from his brow.

"I suppose… yes, that would be best," Aela murmured, giving Vilkas' shoulder a squeeze before she stood. "Farkas, you'll have to carry him. And for Gods' sakes lets get him into some clothes."


	5. Seeing and Believing

It was a long trek back up to the College, the path up from the beach steep and icy. Farkas moved a little slower carrying his brother on his back, who we'd wrapped with our cloaks. When we got to the bridge to the College, Faralda was standing guard and started when she saw us approach; she didn't question me when we crossed into the College and sent immediately for Collette. Aela only made it to the courtyard before opting to turn back and wait in the tavern; the building was impressive enough, but I could see her unease at the powerful magical presence. There was no way however that Farkas would leave his brother, carrying him up into my quarters above the Hall of Elements, no thought to the curious stares of my fellow mages.

"…Whoah… no wonder you like stayin' up here," he breathed when we stepped into the private, circular room. It was beautiful, reasonably warm and lit by magelight over the garden in the centre; the warm light was a trick I'd also used back on Solsthiem in my burrow to grow a few vegetables that would not have survived outside. The entire room had a feel of full moonlight, the round walls lined with bookshelves and work stations, my sleeping quarters behind a modesty wall around half the garden.

We had him settled into the bed there when Collette arrived, rattling off her practised rhetoric about appreciation for her craft… she admittedly halted when she began examining Vilkas' body.

"Well… these markings are quite unique… I've only seen scarring similar to this from natural - or very powerful magic - lightning strikes," she said, looking his body over.

"He's a unique case…" I murmured. "He… this man was trapped in an alternate form, and cured of it before he could be turned back… it was like watching him be torn in two."

Collette raised an eyebrow at me, "Lycanthrophy? How exactly did-?"

"Not now, Collette. Let him be conscious before you turn him into a case study… my apologies, I'm… tired."

She pursed her lips tersely but cast her spells, weaving hands over his body and the markings began to shrink. Farkas kept his distance, pacing worriedly while I sat at the end of the bed, watching on. Eventually she stood back, sighing and examining her work. His skin was almost clear again, marred only by his old scars and one large, white, fractal scar that spread from his heart down his left arm. Still, he wasn't waking.

"That's all we can do for now. From what I can tell, he's just exhausted, and needs the rest." Collette stuck her hands on her hips, "We really won't know more until he wakes; I can fix him a potion to restore his stamina when that happens."

"Collette," I voiced as she turned to go, "I'd _appreciate_ you keeping the details of this private… until further notice."

She nodded and bowed slightly in deference.

For that night, Farkas would not leave his brother's side. I went briefly to the tavern to tell Aela of his progress, and she seemed determined to stay in Winterhold until Vilkas woke. When I returned Farkas hadn't moved, still sitting hunched in the chair by the bed. I kept vigil with him for the most part, and brought him some stew as the night dragged on. For the first time since I'd known him he had nearly no appetite and I could only persuade him to take a few mouthfuls of food; I could tell from his frown he had a lot on his mind, focused solely on his twin. Eventually he fell asleep where he sat and I pulled a cloak over his wide shoulders, then curled up on the cot that had been brought up for him. Sleep didn't come so easily to me, and what little rest I did get was fitful.

By morning Vilkas still hadn't woken which soon had Farkas pacing with worry.

"It's alright," I tried gently, "Collette said he just needs to rest."

"He's been sleepin' a long time now, though. This is just like when we were boys, an' he got that bone break fever, but even then you could still wake him up…" he grumbled back gruffly, scratching a hand through his hair and I got up from my desk, putting a hand on his arm.

"It's just different this time," I tried, but he was still fussy. I snapped my fingers, "Actually, I think there is something that might help… only…"

"What? What is it?"

I went back to my desk, quickly scratching down onto a piece of parchment and handing it to him with a few septims. "Something I learned on Solstheim; I need you to do something for me, can you run into town and see if you can get these ingredients? I'll need a pot of honey, or honeycomb, and some jazbay grapes."

Looking at the note he readily nodded, "Sure, I can do that."

"The tavern should have something… and you can let Aela know what's going on."

"Good. Don't worry I won't be long."

He was determinedly out of there and I had to smile a little, soon welcomed by the silence of the room. I had no idea what I was going to do with the honey and jazbay when he came back, but for now, he could feel of use to his brother. I glanced back over my shoulder to where Vilkas was still and sleeping, then slipped quietly across the flagstones, halting over the bed and gingerly sat on the edge.

Reaching over I ran fingertips over his hair then rested my hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Vilkas?"

He slumbered on without the smallest stir. Resigned, I stood again, deciding that if I wasn't going to allow Farkas to wallow, I shouldn't let myself either, leaving to wash up and change. I'd slept in travelling clothes after all.

I chose a simple indigo tunic over a plain shift, with a light leather corset over the top, and dragged on trousers and fur boots (to Oblivion with elegance), casting one furtive glance back at Vilkas before I slipped from the room to hunt out some breakfast.

The errand wasn't quite as fast as I'd have liked; on my way back I was stopped in the Hall of Elements by Tolfdir, who while brilliant, had a tendency to ramble. Gods help us when we got stuck on a topic of mutual research, we could lose hours to our theorising. Well mannered and kindly, he'd asked after my guests and worried over the news from Whiterun, then filled me in on some new students and their progress in the lectures; the popularity of the College certainly increases.

Promising him more of my time later on I tore myself away, slipping quickly back up the stairs to my quarters.

I shoved my shoulder onto the door, book under on arm and plate of bread, cheese and apple in my other hand, stepping into the gentle warmth of the Arch Mage quarters then stopped abruptly in my tracks:

Vilkas stood by the garden, gaze startled as he looked over at me. He was part silhouette against the cool glow of the magelight, chest and feet bare, woollen trousers clinging low on his hips. My heart leapt in my chest and I fumbled to put the plate and book down, rushing over-

"You're awake-"

"Lyrielle…?"

I almost threw my arms around him, but he was staring it me in a strange way, making me stop short.

"I… are you alright?" I asked, reaching out a hesitant hand. He was still blinking at me with some wonderment - soon he reached out, a hand brushing over my hair, gently lifting a lock and staring at it.

"…I can't remember the last time I saw the colour red…" he said quietly, bemused, then blinked back over at the garden and the thick ivy crawling up the stone, "Or green…" He squeezed his eyes shut a moment as if having a headache, and I gently touched his arm. _That's right; his senses changed when he became a wolf, he took the blood so deeply. He saw better at night, but at the cost of most colours…_

"Where are we?"

"The College - well, my quarters. How do you feel?" I pressed again, and he shrugged.

"Like I drank my weight in brandy, with a memory to match…" He gave a silent, singular laugh, looking back at me again as if for the first time. "You cured me," he stated, and I gave a guilty nod. I wanted to touch him, to pull him in my arms to be certain he was there. Propriety let me rest my fingers over his hand…

"We didn't know what else to do… you were lost to Hircine. How much do you remember?"

He shook his head, "Little. Now and then flashes come back to me; the Stormcloaks, running through the forest, you… _you!_ " He suddenly snapped, turning on me angrily, "You _wicked_ girl! What were you thinking? _That_ is the last thing I remember clearly, you galloping off into the battle, alone, not a scrap of armour on and not telling a single one of us what in Oblivion you were planning and then y- _this is not funny,_ you little fox!"

I hung my head and tried to hide my laughing smile behind my hand, "I'm sorry," I managed, trying to compose myself, "I just… it's actually quite relieving to hear you scolding me again."

He stared at me a moment, before eventually giving a small, quiet laugh himself, shaking his head.

"You'll be the death of me," he muttered. After a hesitant moment he reached out again, a hand stroking over my hair, a touch that made my insides melt and heart begin to race. His expression however, faded into a new frown.

"Don't you ever do something so insane again," he muttered, jaw tight. I could feel my skin prickling and heating at the tender touch, his expression, his worry. "When you fell, I thought they'd killed you…"

I could hold back no more, hands shaking as I quickly stepped in and embraced him tightly, the wonderful warmth of his skin sinking in, his scent flooding my senses… every nerve in my body tingled at the sensation, my cheek against the smooth skin and rough hairs of his chest, hearing his heart beating.

"Thank you, for saving my life," I murmured. I then felt his arms circling me and he held me in tightly, so tightly it was hard to move. His warm breath ghosted down my neck when he buried his face into my hair.

"Thank you for saving my soul…" His hands tightened on my back, gripping into the fabric; I didn't care. In that moment I never wanted him to let me go. My eyes stung with heat, prickling as tears began to well; I squeezed them shut to stop tears from falling. Soon he pulled back a little, a flash of disappointment across his face.

"I can't smell your heart beating anymore," he muttered, and I cocked my head to the side. He glanced down at me then, his silver-blue eyes softening, fingers gently moving a lock of hair from my face, "But my mind is clear… this is the way a warrior - _a man_ \- should feel, focused, not distracted by the call of the beast-blood." His fingers rested gently on my cheek; there was so much I wanted to tell him in that moment and I just couldn't find the words-

"Lyrielle, I…"

Of course, _of course_ , the door burst open at that very moment, and Farkas came barrelling in, a bushel of jazbay in one hand and a large clay pot in the other. By instinct Vilkas and I retreated from each other but I don't think Farkas really noticed the intimate moment, seeing instead his brother was finally awake. He fumbled to put the bushel and pot down, grinning as he strode over.

"Well damn, it's about time you woke up!" he said gruffly, the brothers sharing a bear hug with a lot of slaps on the back, "Guess I went into town for nothin', huh?"

Smiling to myself I slipped away to gather up everything Farkas had left on the floor. I examined the jazbay; a little withered, but the berries were ripe.

"I don't know. I suppose I could always make a crostata."

"Yeah… I am kinda hungry," Farkas agreed, then slung an arm on Vilkas' shoulders, "You gotta be too."

"Aye, I could eat…"

I gave a resigned sigh to my breakfast, "Alright… tide yourselves over with that, we'll get you dressed and head down for a real breakfast."

We decided on eating properly down at the tavern with Aela, filling Vilkas in on everything that had transpired while he was transformed. While Aela was happy to see her Shield Brother up and about, and content that he was out of danger, she had no real wish to linger in Winterhold any longer. She set off for Whiterun shortly after her breakfast. For the rest of the day the brothers and I toured the grounds of the College.

There were more than a few introductions to be made, and Collette cornered Vilkas at one point to grill him on his recovery all the while flippantly assuring him she wouldn't spread word about his 'condition'. We stopped to listen in on some of the lectures and classes; but I saved the Arcanaeum for last.

Vilkas' lips parted a little in astonishment when we stepped into the library, and he soaked in all around him, the many tall book cases lining the circular room, shelves of relics and study materials, and the giant map of Skyrim over one wall.

"Now I can _really_ see why you'd never want to leave," he'd murmured, drinking everything in, "I've read about this library but to think, all of this is only a _fraction_ of what there once was…"

Vilkas' serious demeanour and obvious appreciation for the library even managed to make a positive impression on Urag gro-Shub, and that Orc never liked anyone. Farkas settled with restlessly reading a little fiction while his brother admired the tomes; Faralda had cornered me meanwhile to bring me up to speed with the goings-on around the College, and find out what I'd been busy with the past fortnight.

I also began noticing after a while Brelyna and two of the new students - a Redguard girl named Dahlia and a Nord lass, Ygritte - tending to poke their noses in wherever we were, giggling to each other behind their hands and making eyes whenever they caught one of the twin's attentions. Farkas was no stranger to the playful flirting game and knew just when to flash them a sweet smile to encourage their attention.

It wasn't till a little later when I was finished talking business with Faralda that I noticed Vilkas go to his brother, speaking lowly to him - Farkas held back a grin at his twin, getting up and seeking out the girls who were 'studying' nearby. It didn't take long for him to be invited to go with them to dinner in the Hall of Attainment. Vilkas then quietly approached me, and I looked up when I felt the weight of his hand on my shoulder.

"Walk with me?"

Perhaps my soft smile betrayed the nervous, yet delighted twist in my core, as I took his arm.

And so, after a long and filled day, Vilkas and I could walk together alone. From the library we took the winding stairs to walk along the high fortification of the College; on a clear day, you could almost see all the way to Dawnstar. But it was late evening now, the thick clouds threatening sleet that night and I lit our way with a candlelight spell. I hugged my cloak around my shoulders, though Vilkas seemed comfortable enough with his thick surcoat we'd fitted him in. He did look drained, though; Collette had said he needed rest and Farkas and I had been dragging him about the College all day…

"When will you return to Whiterun?" he asked, and I nipped at my bottom lip.

"Well, it would be best I stay for tomorrow, at least. There's been a lot of new students recently and so I'll be giving a lecture. Then I'd probably need to see the Jarl about the greenhouses… oh, I'm looking to get some greenhouses built down where some of those old ruined houses are, you can see from here. I thought, if I can have a garden in my quarters, it would be beneficial to start cultivating our own fresh food…"

"Aye, that's ambitious of you… for just the College?"

"Mmm. I suppose we could sell produce too."

Vilkas considered this a moment, "Well… you never know, the Jarl might be interested in just giving you the land, if you build on it, and taking some of the produce as tax. It might be worth a negotiation… could improve the relationship too."

I cocked my head, studying his face and his handsome, pensive expression.

"Shrewd… I should take you with me when I see him," I said with a smile, and when he returned it there was a fluttering in my stomach. The moment seemed to hang in the air, finally broken when we continued walking.

"…Will you need more than a day?" he asked and I shook my head.

"I hope not. I can have as much business here as I like, but Whiterun still needs help. I'd set out tomorrow evening if we had the time… so long as you're well enough to travel."

"Ah, you mustn't worry yourself about me, I'm more than fine… how long will you stay with us?" Vilkas halted in his steps, and I looked up to him; the softly bobbing candlelight spell cast a cool glow over his face, glancing off the hard-carved planes and brilliant, ice-blue eyes… _I'd stay forever if I could_ , I thought to myself. It wasn't the answer I gave though.

"I'll stay as long as I'm needed," I promised, "And you can't tell me not to worry about you. Until yesterday I thought I'd be having a pet werewolf for the rest of my life. And then… in Ysgramor's tomb, when the Beast was torn out of you I…"

I couldn't finish, instead trying to drive the memory away by glaring at the icy flagstones. Then, a gentle weight on my shoulder as he rested his hand there. When he spoke his tone was low and soft, a sound that filled me with warmth.

"Lyrielle, I'm alright. I promise you."

I nodded, turning to look at him again though at that moment the light faded out. About to cast again, an idea struck me and instead I took his hand, going to the edge of the wall.

"What are you doing-?"

"Just watch," I said, looking up to the cloud-covered sky, and drawing a deep breath; " _Lok, Vah KOOR!_ "

Vilkas flinched at the crack as my shout thundered over the hold, staring up at the sky curiously.

"If this is the first night in fifteen years you see colour, you'd best do it properly," I told him.

He looked curiously from me out to the parting clouds that began melting away over the starry skies… and there, the long, pink and green ribbons of light began to dance over the stars, an aurora glowing brilliantly in the night, finally revealed. Vilkas was stunned for a while, eyes wide, lips gently parted in wonderment. It was a wonderful feeling, that I might give him that sort of bliss. I let my hands rest on the cold stone wall, and gazed out at the dazzling light.

"I come up here most nights, on my own. Residents don't usually mind the shout, less snow to wade through of a morning… I'm glad you get to see it though."

I heard him step up beside me… and then his gloved hand was over mine, tentative, cautious. Another fluttering in my stomach, I spread my fingers slightly, feeling his fall between them and loosely intertwining. But when I looked at him he was still watching the aurora as if determined. His expression became steely, and I looked away to the horizon in case my gaze was unwanted.

Once I did he finally spoke, slow, uncertain, his voice tense to stop from wavering.

"Lyrielle… There was too much holding me back before… now it seems there's not enough, not anymore… Right now there's no risk I'd so willingly take. I convinced myself you felt only friendship for me, and I for you and that it'd be foolish to hope for anything more. Now, I can't be under any misconceptions… everything I know of the past week is a dream, where all I could see and hear was you."

The words washed around me in a haze. I could barely breathe, let alone find a way to reply. His fingers tightened their grip on mine and when he spoke again, my legs nearly collapsed beneath me:

"I love you, Lyrielle; I'd give my humanity a hundred more times for you. I know what you've said in the past, I know your heart is not so easily touched… All I can ask is that you tell me that there is a chance, or… if not, one word from you will silence me on the matter."

I could hear the hope fade from his voice, though I couldn't look at him while I tried to blot away the tears that strangled me, tried to calm my staggering breaths as they threatened sobs, overwhelmed with joy. When I finally brought myself to look at him he'd already looked away, pain slashed over his eyes as he stared out to the horizon.

"…I've said too much," he said quietly, coldness creeping into his voice. My wolf thought I was upset? It was almost laughable; I reached out and grabbed the front of his surcoat as he went to turn away, my eyes damp, but smiling.

"Just _kiss_ me, Vilkas," I breathed helplessly, and for the first time in forever a true, beautiful, broad smile broke out over his face.

…And his lips were warm on mine, tender, gentle at first before hunger made him deepen the kiss. Gods, how I'd longed for it! Suddenly I thought my heart would burst out of my chest; my throat tightened, eyes burning and watering with unadulterated bliss. He wants me too! I slipped my arms around his neck, gloved fingers lacing through his thick dark hair, his arms around my waist and lifting till my toes lifted from the ground. I felt that I could fly…

And his tongue grazed my lips, drawing a sigh from me and turning my insides hot…

"I've waited far too long to do that…" he murmured against my lips. I smiled back into his, our noses brushing- he swallowed carefully after a moment, setting me down on my toes but not letting go of me, his forehead resting on mine.

"I love you too, my wolf," I said quietly, though my throat was tight. A wonderful sense of wholeness consumed me, though my words had given Vilkas a second wave of elation and he was kissing me again, littering my skin wherever he could; grinning I nuzzled into his neck.

We'd been standing at the edge of a great precipice, and now, finally leapt. I had no idea where we went from there, but I didn't care. He was mine now.

It was some time before we managed to work our way back downstairs; I'd teased him into going back inside when I'd heard his stomach rumble, though it wasn't till I mentioned I was a little hungry myself he relented. Neither of us had eaten since breakfast.

We met with Farkas in the Hall of Attainment where he was still being entertained by Dhalia and Ygritte, sharing goblets of mead after their supper. He smiled broadly, but said nothing when he saw us enter together, Vilkas' hand resting at the small of my back.

We supped on what little there was left and soon other students were joining us in the dining alcove; J'zargo going so far as to offer making a pot of Elswyer fondue. The wine flowed a little more freely that night, and we were regaled with every story I'd missed over the past few weeks.

And Vilkas sat just that little closer to me… he'd top my goblet when it was empty, chuckle a little more freely, pay his subtle attentions. He was not one for great public displays - and I _loved_ it. How he'd shift and try not to smirk when I had my fingers on his knee, or he'd subtly brush my hand as we sat together.

Still, as the night ran on and the people got rowdy, Vilkas was visibly drained, a pinched look on his brow hinting at a headache. I mentally berated myself; really he should not have been out of bed at all and Farkas and I had him on his feet all day exploring the grounds and buildings. I lent in, voice low and our conversation made private under the noise of the party around us.

"You look exhausted."

"I'm alright, love."

"It is getting late," I said, incapable of holding back the smile at affectionate address and rubbed a hand over his back.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"If I say yes, will you admit you need some sleep?"

It seemed for a moment he might argue, instead rubbing the heel of his palm over a sleepy eye and sighed.

"Ah, you're right… and… where is it I'll be sleeping?"

"…What's wrong with where you stayed last night…? You're mine now. I get to keep you close."

For a moment, I swear I saw a hint of a blush.

"Well. A man can not complain at that."

We managed to slip away without comments, if not notice… most were polite enough to hide their sly smiles when we left the Hall of Attainment together, returning to the tower that held my quarters. Closing the door behind us brought a sudden sensation of peace and solitude. His hands were at my waist in and instant with a gentle squeeze, nose nuzzling my neck, lips pressing a hot kiss against my skin. I even felt him smile wolfishly when I drew in a sharp breath.

All the same I felt his tired weight leaning on me more and more, and taking his hand I lead him to the soft blankets of my bed, still only half made from where he'd rested before.

Vilkas fell down into bed with a quiet, tired groan, not even shrugging his clothes off or pulling the blanket over himself. Though his eyes closed, I saw them slyly open, perhaps as he heard me tugging at the lacing of my corset and the woollen overdress. No matter how much I willed them not too, much cheeks flushed pink, and I turned away to hide my slight smile, nerves fluttering with something more pleasant in my stomach. Even in the cotton shift, I felt somehow exposed, the weight of his gaze on me…

But we'd known each other before… and my core felt warm and tight, realising I would get to 'know' him even better from now on. I turned, my bare little feet padding softly over the stone, and I crawled up onto the bed, laying down at his side. He turned, pulling me firmly against him and breathing in the scent of my hair. My cheeks could hurt from smiling so; burying my face into his chest, I murmured.

"We shouldn't have had you out and about so much; Collette did say you needed sleep…"

He growled a familiar sound, nudging his face lower to find my lips, grazing them softly as he spoke.

"And how does sleep stand a chance… when a man has a dragon in his bed?"

I felt a smirk curl on my face, leaning in to kiss him… only to murmur instead; "It's my bed you're in, pup."

"Aye?" His hand came up to net through my hair, drawing me closer and into a kiss, soft, hungry, and tasting of honey mead. Vilkas turned, pulling my body over onto his; my core tightened hotly when his arms moved around my waist, holding me safe and close, edging my shift up over my bared thighs. Our lips broke one last time, eyes meeting, and he softly murmured…

"Gods willing, I will never leave it."

* * *

 **Thank you for the reviews and favourites, hope you enjoyed this simple (if short!) story!**


End file.
